Meet Me in Montauk
by Shade's Ninde
Summary: Kaldur doesn't think he can carry on with a twice-broken heart.  To help him cope, M'gann obliterates Roy from his memory, but at what cost? T for language and references to drug use.
1. Prologue

I don't own Young Justice _or _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Meet Me in Montauk<strong>

* * *

><p>M'gann isn't sure what to think when he comes to her.<p>

She knew he would go to someone, eventually. It's been two weeks since the morning he came into training with a heart so broken, she could feel the grief seeping out of it in throbbing waves that nearly buckled her own knees, and it never really did get better. Emotional radiation is a regular occurrence with some of her teammates – Wally is excitable, Conner easily angered – but not with Kaldur, who usually maintains such strict control over his feelings. And while he held it together through every exercise that day and all the days since, she has been on Earth long enough to know that a person can only take so much of something like that, no matter how strong they are.

Even so, when he appears in her doorway one night, she isn't sure why he has come to _her. _

It becomes clear soon enough.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure about this?" she asks nervously, fingers trembling as she frames his head with her hands.<p>

"I am certain."

"I don't know if it can be undone, if you…if you decide you want them back. I've never done this before."

"I understand."

His gaze is unfaltering.

"The team will need to know," she says softly.

"I have spoken to Robin."

"What…what does he think about it?"

"That is irrelevant. He knows what to tell the others, should you inform him that you consented to administer the procedure."

She bites her lip.

"I just…I don't know if this is a good idea. Maybe you just need a little more time."

"If you are uncomfortable, I will withdraw my request," he says, his voice quiet and deceptively calm. "I have asked this of you as your friend, not ordered it as your leader."

She swallows hard, thinking. She has felt his pain for two weeks now, and even so, she cannot imagine wanting what he wants – it is too drastic, too, too risky, too much. Nevertheless, she has known _him _for near two years now, well enough to know that he is anything but reckless. He would not have come to her if he had not already weighed all the possible options, considered all the possible consequences, and come to the conclusion that this is the only way forward. And she is the only one who can help him. She is the only one who can lift this weight from his shoulders.

She takes a deep breath, and nods.

He closes his eyes; her own begin to glow softly. Just as her mind slips into his, he hears her ask:

"Is there anything you would want us to tell him, if…if he asks?"

"No," he says, calm as ever. Only here in the shallows of his mind can she feel the deep current of despair that runs through that one word. "I am certain he will understand."

* * *

><p>It takes only a moment to extinguish four years.<p> 


	2. One

_The first time he goes to the surface, they bypass the zeta-system in favor of the scenic route. Orin escorts him through the coastal waters for the better part of a day, past the schools of fishes that live far from the cities of Atlantis, around the great crags of rock that define the northeastern coast of the United States, and in the late afternoon, they both emerge dripping from the water to stand on the stony beach. _

_It is clear out, and standing is strange on legs that are accustomed to the buoyancy of an underwater world._

_A friend has come to greet his king, a broad-chested man with yellow hair and a beard, just like Orin's, except this man is a great deal less grave and laughs a great deal more often. He has brought another with him, a young man not much older than Kaldur, who seems irritated with the whole thing. _

_The two older men converse easily. Kaldur's English is not yet strong enough to follow the conversation very well, but he can tell that they are talking about him and the other boy by the gestures they make, and he can tell that the other boy doesn't like this at all; he grumbles something every time a certain word is uttered. Though Kaldur doesn't know what 'seidkik' is, he deduces it must be offensive in the other's culture, and makes a mental note not to use it._

_Finally, the two mentors turn away from one another, back to their silent protégés; Kaldur is staring curiously off at the cliffs (how do surface-dwellers navigate them without water to bear them up?), while the other one, the one with hair like fire, is gazing at the water._

"_Kaldur'ahm," says Orin, and continues in Atlantean so he is sure to understand. "This is my colleague from the Justice League, Green Arrow."_

_The broad-chested one extends his hand, and Kaldur shakes it, remembering this ritual of introduction from his Land Studies classes._

"_And this is his ward, Speedy," Orin continues. "He is to Green Arrow what you will be to me."_

_Kaldur nods and holds out his hand expectantly. The other boy is slower to take it than his mentor was, and his eyes flick up and down Kaldur's frame as they shake, as though he is sizing him up, but his grip is firm and his skin is warm, and Kaldur can't help but notice that his eyes are blue as the ocean itself._

"_I'm off-duty," Speedy says, hands slipping back into the pockets of his jacket. "Just call me Roy."_

* * *

><p>Conner hangs back a minute after breakfast, under the pretense of helping M'gann with the dishes. It's unusual that they have a guest in the morning, especially on a day they don't even have training, and it's even more unusual for Kaldur not to offer to help with the washing. Something's up.<p>

"Is he okay?" he asks as he takes the dirty plates from her.

"Hmm? Oh…yes," M'gann replies distractedly, moving to collect the silverware from the table. "He's just…working through a few things, I think."

"Are _you _okay?" he follows up after a moment. She has been quieter than usual this morning, and given that neither Conner nor Kaldur is much of a talker, it left their breakfast rather subdued.

"Yes," M'gann says, forcing a smile as she brushes past him to put the forks in the sink. "I'm…I'm fine."

He doesn't believe it.

"What happened?"

She shakes her head silently, and more and more, he doesn't like this – he doesn't like feeling cut off, kept at an arm's distance, not when he's so used to sensing her mind right there next to his all the time. She's trying to keep something from him, and while she's entitled to her secrets, it doesn't take an empath to see that something is wrong.

"M'gann. Talk to me."

She turns to him and opens her mouth hesitantly. But then instead of talking, suddenly she just buries her face in his chest, dropping the dishes she's holding to wrap her arms about him in a tight embrace. Surprised, he can only return the gesture, holding her close and rubbing her back in what he hopes is a soothing motion, though he's always been a little awkward with this kind of thing.

"Hey," he says softly. "What's going on?"

She doesn't seem to want to move, but her voice sounds in his head, and the comfort of their restored mind-link washes over him.

_Promise you won't ever forget me?_

_What? _he responds, confused. _What do you mean? Why would I?_

She's talking as though she's about to go somewhere, and it sets his heart on edge.

_Please, just promise me._

_All right. I promise. _He strokes her hair, frowning. _Now will you tell me what's going on?_

She takes a deep, shuddering breath against his chest.

_I think I might have done something terrible._

* * *

><p>They get a transmission from Robin a few hours later, explaining the matter in terse, succinct, Batlike terms.<p>

_This will not affect the team or its missions, _he finishes. _But given the situation, it's up to us to ensure that this stays a personal matter. Red Tornado, Black Canary and Batman have been informed. If the need arises, KF and I will explain the situation to Red Arrow. Until then, nothing changes. Are we all clear?_

The other four murmur their assent. Conner turns off hiscommunicator and sets it aside. He understands Kaldur's troubled silence at breakfast now, the way he seemed to trail off mid-sentence when he did speak, as though he'd run into some kind of mental wall.

"How did you do it?" he asks M'gann, curled up next to him on the couch and looking oh-so-small. But his tone is curious, not judgmental, and his hand squeezes hers gently to show he does not mean to probe.

She turns her eyes to the floor, biting her lip.

"It was just the reverse of Bialya," she explains with a shrug. Her voice is quiet, uncertain. "But…instead of pulling the threads together, I was cutting them apart."

"Won't it leave gaps?"

"Probably," she replies. "I…tweaked a few things, to make it make sense, at least. He knows who Red Arrow is. A hero, formerly Green Arrow's protégé, a friend of Robin and Wally's. But in his mind, they've never met."

He shakes his head slightly, trying to picture that. Roy has been Kaldur's best friend since long before he and M'gann came along, and though he could never pinpoint the moment when that friendship became something more than friendship, in his eyes they were always two sides of the same coin, Roy's temper to Kaldur's cool, Kaldur's caution to Roy's bravado, bound together by duty and powerful mutual respect. He may not know Roy that well, but he cannot imagine the two without each other.

And even more than this, he cannot fathom what could possibly have happened to make Kaldur want to forget it all.

"I know," she murmurs, as if reading his thoughts, though he knows that she hasn't. "He didn't say."

Conner frowns.

"No point in asking now, I guess."

* * *

><p>M'gann comes to him crying the next day after a "conversation" with Batman. He gathers from her fragmented mental relay of the encounter that the Dark Knight is less than pleased with her failure to consult a single adult before taking such drastic action.<p>

"Everyone wants to forget something," Batman had growled. "That doesn't entitle us to it. We don't learn from what we don't remember."

As he reassures M'gann that she was only trying to help a friend, Conner can't help but wonder if Batman had a similar conversation with Kaldur. Can you reprimand someone for something they don't know they did?

* * *

><p>Three days later, they have their next mission.<p>

Batman sounds more gruff than usual as he explains their objectives, but Kaldur is still there in line with the rest of them, still the one who seem to be on point for all this, so Conner has to assume that whatever disciplinary action took place (if any), the League has decided that choosing to wipe another hero from his memory isn't sufficient grounds to take him off duty, or at least off the team. On some level, the clone is relieved about this.

For his part, Kaldur looks calmer and more focused than he's been in weeks, maybe longer. Conner is no empath, but even before the day M'gann told him something was truly wrong, he had noticed a subtle change in Kaldur's demeanor, nothing dramatic, just little things you'd notice if you'd only had five friends in your entire life, and one of them started staring off into space a little too often, or failing to crack a smile at things would normally earn one, or checking his communicator a few too many times over the course of a day.

But the Kaldur Conner met that long-ago day in Sub-Level 52 is back. His gaze is steady, his voice is level, and he is clearly present as he reassures Batman that they understand their goal.

Their mission goes well. They negotiate the few small hitches smoothly, and they have the intel they were sent to retrieve within hours of infiltrating the target facility. On the way back, Wally delivers his usual post-op chatter, and for a little while, they get lost in this sense of normalcy, the easy companionship of a job well-executed, the security of knowing they've all made it through yet again. It's almost like old times, if you can call their first year of missions "old times."

Then they re-enter the Cave to the sight of Roy leaning against the far wall, waiting for them, and it all shatters.


	3. Two

_"To two years on dry land," Roy grins, raising his glass. "Cheers."_

_"Cheers?" Kaldur repeats curiously, and looks yet more confused when the archer knocks their glasses together, sending a little bit of the golden foam spilling over the rim of Roy's._

_"It's uh, it's just something you say before you drink with someone else," Roy tries to explain, an amused smile playing on the edge of his lips as he takes a sip. "Means 'good times' or something like that. You sure you don't want a beer?"_

_"I have not yet reached the legal drinking age for your city."_

_"Oh, like I have."_

_"I did not say I approved of your decision to partake."_

_Roy punches Kaldur's shoulder lightly._

_"Wipe that smirk off your face, fishboy, it's just a beer. It's not like it's…you know."_

_"Only a jest, my friend."_

_Kaldur's faint smile sustains the warmth of the moment, reassures Roy that he knows that time is over, that the trust lost in those days of secrets and syringes has been long since restored. He lifts his own glass as they fall into comfortable silence, tucked away in the corner booth of the neighborhood pub._

_"Cheers."_

_It is a quiet evening; neither of them plan to patrol tonight, so Roy has another few beers, and Kaldur switches his communicator onto emergency alert only, and they just sit there in the booth and catch up, voices low as not to attract any unwanted attention. It's been a few weeks since the last time they had time to get together like this, though that never seems to change anything. _

_By the time they leave, Roy's a little tipsy, and Kaldur insists on walking him home, not because he's at all worried, just because it's a nice excuse to spend a little more time together before duty calls them both back to real life. The archer inquires after Tula; Kaldur replies that he has not heard from her in a while but expects to be able to visit her in a few week's time._

_"Get some," Roy grins, and claps him on the back. _

_If it were anyone else, Kaldur would have hardened at the crudeness of such a remark. But somehow, coming from Roy, it just makes him laugh._

* * *

><p>The change in body language is immediate.<p>

Artemis watches as Robin and Wally freeze at the front of their ranks; M'gann practically flinches at the sight of Roy waiting at the far side of the room, and Conner reaches for her as if on instinct. Only Kaldur fails to react, but Artemis reaches out and catches his arm to buy them a second of extra time, which judging by the expressions on Wally's and Robin's faces, they need.

"M'gann," Robin says quickly, and she understands. In an instant, Artemis feels four minds blossom into the space beside her own. Kaldur's is conspicuously absent.

_We haven't talked to him yet, _Wally says, a hint of panic coloring his thoughts. _He was supposed to be doing some undercover thing until day after tomorrow._

Kaldur is looking back at them, confused by their alarmed expressions, and Roy has straightened up off the wall and is rapidly crossing the room towards them.

_KF, distract him, _Robin orders.

The speedster steps forward.

"Hey, Roy, long time no see, buddy…"

_We can't let him find out like this, _says M'gann as Wally desperately improvises.

_We may not have a choice. _

The others cast a glance at Conner, wishing his words weren't so true, but the clone is right – just as Kaldur turns to ask what's going on, Roy brushes past Wally, who is still frantically babbling about why this isn't a good time and really, they just got back, so they really should be hitting the showers before anything else…

"Kal," the archer says, his voice strangely hoarse – Artemis isn't used to seeing him vulnerable like this, especially not in front of so many people. "Please. I just want to talk."

Kaldur looks at him in surprise, clearly taken aback by the nickname. He opens his mouth to respond, perhaps to ask a question, when Robin abruptly steps in.

"Roy, you should go home," he says, and his tone is far heavier than a suggestion. He reminds Artemis of Batman when he says it, just a little.

"Stay out of this, Robin," says the older boy. But it's not a snap, more of a plea. "Kaldur. Please."

"Look, you need to trust us, this isn't the right time," Wally presses, and Conner opens his mouth to agree when Kaldur suddenly lifts his hand.

"It is fine, my friends," he interrupts. "Let him speak."

"Kaldur, this is a bad idea," says Artemis flatly.

The Atlantean casts a glance back at them, and she can only wonder what he's thinking – a stranger appears in the Cave asking for an audience, and his team does everything in their power to stop him from extending even that basic courtesy? She can practically hear him deciding whether or not to reprimand them for their rudeness. But in the end, he seems to decide against it, and turns back to Roy. As the rest of them stand there holding their collective breath, he says,

"What is your business, friend?"

Roy visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping in relief.

"Can we…you know, talk somewhere a little less public?" he asks, hands shoved into his pockets as he glances around at the crowd around them. Behind his back, Robin meets Kaldur's eyes and slides a finger across his neck, shaking his head and mouthing the word _NO_.

"Any matter concerning the team may be discussed in their presence," Kaldur says after a moment, his eyes moving back to the archer.

Roy's brow creases. He looks confused, and some of the initial tension begins to creep into his posture.

"It's…not the team," he says haltingly. "Come on, don't…don't be like this."

"I am afraid I do not follow."

"Look, if you don't want to talk to me, just say so and I'll leave."

"I meant nothing of the sort," Kaldur reassures him, and Artemis cringes at the sincerity of his tone as he continues: "I simply do not understand the nature of the conversation you wish to have."

"I want a chance to explain myself. And…and to apologize."

The last few words are mumbled so quietly they're hardly audible, and Kaldur frowns.

"Forgive me," he says perplexedly. "I do not believe we have had a proper introduction."

And he holds out his hand.

Roy stares. It's like all the air has gone out of the room.

"Don't fuck with me," he finally mutters, anger beginning to cloud over his face. His hands stay in his pockets, shoulders hunching defensively.

As Kaldur retracts his hand and frowns again, Artemis speaks up.

"He isn't," she says, her face dead serious.

"Shut it, blondie," Roy snaps.

"There is no need for disrespect," warns Kaldur, taking a step forward.

"Fuck this, Kal. If you didn't want to see me all you had to do was…" Roy begins, but he stops suddenly, his head jerking towards M'gann as if in response to some new sound that none of the rest of them can hear, though they can all guess. After a tense moment, the Martian's eyes lower, offering a silent apology that makes absolutely no difference.

Roy looks like he's been punched in the stomach.

His eyes flick to Kaldur, sharp and blue and desperate.

"Tell me she's lying," he demands, his voice raw with some feeling he's barely managing to control.

"My friends, is there something you are not telling me?" Kaldur asks, turning to his teammates in what is no longer just benign confusion. He looks frustrated, even impatient, both of which are distinctly uncharacteristic for him. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"You tell _me,_" Roy growls.

"I assure you, I am just as confused as you seem to be."

Roy shakes his head like he's trying to wake himself up, and Wally looks so anxious now that Artemis wouldn't be surprised if he ran from the room, or broke down, or both.

"Roy," Robin breaks in, his voice soft. "I'm sorry. We meant to tell you before it came to this."

But the archer seems not to hear him; his hands have clenched into fists at his sides and he's staring off into space, his face growing steadily darker, as if some giant weight is descending on his shoulders and it's all he can do just to stand upright.

"I believe I am owed an explanation," Kaldur says, looking to Robin this time. "I do not appre- "

_"You had no right,"_ Roy suddenly gasps out, his gaze whipping to M'gann, who shrinks back, looking like she's about to cry. "You had no damn right to – "

" – she only did what he asked her to," Conner interrupts, taking a protective step in front of the Martian to put himself between her and Roy, who looks absolutely livid. "Maybe_ you_ should have been a little more careful with – "

" – you don't know a goddamn thing about this, don't you dare try and fucking – "

"Enough," Kaldur snaps, and Roy looks back at him sharply, the anger fading from his face to be replaced by desperate disbelief. But the Atlantean's own gaze is commanding and hard, not a trace of recognition in those pale grey eyes. "I will not tolerate such hostility towards my teammates. State your business, or leave immediately."

"Kaldur," says Roy, talking a faltering step towards him. "God, Kaldur, please. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't know who I am."

"I know well enough," Kaldur replies evenly. "Red Arrow, formerly Speedy, a past protégé of Green Arrow. Civilian alias Roy Harper, residence Star City."

With every word, Roy seems to break further.

A horrible silence envelops the group. M'gann is crying in earnest now, but the sound is muffled in Conner's chest as he holds her close; Wally looks like he's about to throw up, and for once, Robin has no wisecrack. Artemis watches them all, and despite everything, despite all the bad blood between her and Roy, despite the fact that she could never quite understand what Kaldur saw in him, her stomach twists with pity as he stands there looking for all the world like someone's turned off all the lights and he's too damn scared to make a move in the darkness.

"I…" he rasps at last, but stops. His hands are shaking.

"Have I said something to offend you?" Kaldur asks, gentler now. He seems to sense that he has given the wrong answer.

Slowly, Roy shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment before he forces a broken smile and looks back up.

"No, I just…" he practically whispers. There is a long, tense pause. "I should have come sooner. I'm sorry."

He takes a hesitant step forward, as if waiting to see if Kaldur will move away, which he doesn't.

The Atlantean's eyes open wide in surprise as he finds himself pulled into an unexpected embrace, then even further when the archer's lips press against his cheek in a brief, trembling kiss. Then as suddenly as it happened, it's over, and Roy has slipped past him and is heading swiftly for the zeta-tubes without a backwards glance, hands thrust into his pockets once more.

As the others look on, Kaldur lifts a hand to his cheek. The look on his face could mean many things, but to Artemis, it's as if he's just heard a faint catch of music, and he's trying to remember the words that go with it, but it passes after a moment and he simply looks confused.

The others share a look.

"Showers," says Robin brusquely, assuming command. "Then…we'll talk."


	4. Three

_Their first kiss is preposterously anticlimactic. _

_They're in the doorway of Roy's apartment, busily stripping off weapons and equipment and muddy boots after a night out in the city, when Roy just stops all of a sudden and leans over and catches Kaldur's lips with his own, and they freeze like that for a second. It's brief and it's chaste and it's simple and then it's over._

_They go back to what they were doing._

"_Is there an occasion I am forgetting?" Kaldur asks after a moment, straightening out as he kicks his discarded boots to one side._

_Roy shrugs and drops his quiver to the floor._

"_Not really," he says. "Just…felt like it."_

_Kaldur chuckles._

"_Fair enough."_

"_You're not going to kick my ass and go running back to the Cave, are you?"_

"_Why would I do that?'_

"_I don't know how stuff gets handled down in Atlantis, but up here, this kind of thing sometimes ends that way."_

"_I see. Well. No. The thought had not occurred to me."_

"_Great. You want first shower?"_

"_Either way, my friend."_

_It's as simple as that._

* * *

><p>The bell rings at 2:45, and Wally can't <em>believe<em> how long this day has been. Bolting from the classroom, he shoulders his way through the crowded hallway, digs his books out of his locker and stuffs them in his backpack, wishing he could just speed out of there and be done with it all, but there's this whole thing where he's pretending to be a normal teenager, so he settles for a fast walk, trying not to bump anyone who's likely to throw him into a wall for it.

Ordinarily on a Thursday, he'd head for the Cave, get a little extra training in, but he has a different destination in mind today. Besides, the air is still awkward there – M'gann is reeling from yesterday's events, and according to the zeta-records, Kaldur disappeared to Atlantis before anyone woke up this morning. But Wally's not worried about him. Kaldur might know what's missing now, but he can't _miss _it. Not like Roy can.

He zeta-transports to Star City from the fake storefront in Central, textbooks and backpack and all. It's been a while since he's been here but he knows the route anyway, from all the times all four of them – he and Robin and Roy and Kaldur – gathered in the eldest's apartment to eat pizza and talk shit about each other's mentors and get way too competitive about video games, back before things got so complicated with the team and everything else. On some selfish level, he can't help but be disappointed that they'll probably never get to do that again, at least not like it was before…but that's probably the least of Roy's concerns right now, so Wally forces his mind away from it. He isn't here to feel sorry for himself.

It's a little past three by the time he jogs up the front steps to the door and knocks, shifting antsily from one foot to another.

No one answers.

He tries again a moment later, hiking his backpack up on his shoulder.

Just as he figures Roy's not in and turns to leave, the door opens just a crack, and he look back to see the archer blinking blearily out at him, the sunshine from outside slanting over his face and making him flinch back half a step.

"Hey," Wally says, trying not to comment on the fact that _HANGOVER _is practically written across Roy's face. "Um, bad time?"

Roy stares at him a moment, as if trying to decide what he wants, then undoes the chain from the door and opens it without a word. Wally follows him inside.

The apartment is a mess. When even Wally West thinks your apartment is a mess, you have a problem. There are clothes strewn randomly across the floor and the furniture; one of the kitchen chairs is inexplicably on its side; there are empty takeout containers covering most available surfaces, and what look suspiciously like bloodstains marking a splotchy path from the middle of the kitchen towards the bathroom. To Roy's credit, none of his gear is out, so he's at least had the presence of mind to cover his tracks – no civilian wandering in here would guess that the flat belongs to a costumed vigilante, just your average 20-some man living away from his mother for the first time. Still, it's pretty bad.

"I'll get around to it," Roy mutters, as if sensing Wally's thoughts.

"It's fine," Wally says quickly. "Bad night?"

"Bad week."

"Right."

As Roy wanders into the kitchen, Wally steps over the first patch of laundry and finds a clear space on the floor to dump his backpack. He has this urge to pull up all the blinds and open the windows and let some air and light into the place, because it's like being in a tomb – a very messy, lived-in tomb – but judging by the many empty cans of cheap beer in front of the couch, Roy wouldn't appreciate that, so he just follows him into the kitchen, eying the bloodstains warily.

"Is that…are you…okay?" he asks, gesturing to them.

Roy casts a glance at the floor.

"Yeah," he says. "Stayed on patrol past my expiration date last night. Don't worry about it."

"What happened?"

"Nothing worth talking about. You want a snack?"

Wally isn't sure he trusts any food that's made contact with Roy's kitchen, but he's hungry – he hasn't eaten since lunch, which for a speedster might as well be an age, and besides, the stuff Roy is pulling out of the cupboard is packaged so it probably can't kill him. Probably.

"So," Roy says as he tosses Wally a packet of beef jerky. "I'm assuming you're here to make sure I'm not dead."

"I wasn't gonna put it like that," Wally mumbles. "But um, yeah, I guess. Just…wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Well, I'm alive," says Roy, ripping open his own package and tearing a piece off with his teeth. "Mission accomplished?"

Wally forces a weak, uncomfortable grin, moving forward to pick up the toppled kitchen chair and right it so that he can sit in it. Mostly he just wants to buy himself time to figure out how to continue this conversation.

"We…planned to tell you sooner," he says finally, fiddling with the jerky wrapper and avoiding his friend's eyes. "So you wouldn't have to find out like…like that. We thought you wouldn't be back for another few days."

Roy leans against the kitchen counter, expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he mutters after a moment, rubbing the crook of his elbow with his thumb. "I thought so too. But I cut some stuff short. I just wanted a chance to talk to him before things got worse. That worked out great, obviously."

He lets out a hollow laugh that makes Wally cringe, because it's just like Roy to pretend to be laughing about this, when everything around them points to the fact that he's falling apart.

"What happened?" Wally asks quietly. "I mean, if you want to talk about it."

"Not sure what the point is anymore," Roy shrugs.

"I dunno. Sometimes talking about stuff makes it better, you know?"

"Cute idea, freckleface, but what's done is done. I was too late. All that's left to do is live with it."

"Roy, come on," Wally frowns. "You know what I mean. "

Roy sighs and sets his snack aside.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks, and there's something about the way his breath caves his chest a little too far, the way his shoulders slump and hunch at the same time, simultaneously defensive and resigned, something about the utterly lost expression in his eyes. It's painful just to look at him. "Do you have any idea what it's like to hurt someone so badly, they want to forget they ever met you?"

"But you didn't mean to, right?" Wally asks, biting his lip. Roy is many things – stubborn, foul-mouthed, a bit of an ass at times – but he can't imagine him deliberately doing anything to hurt Kaldur, or any of them for that matter. All of them have always understood that beneath it all, Roy is golden. "You didn't do it on purpose."

"I…" Roy says, then trails off, shaking his head. "It's not that simple, Kid."

"What do you mean?"

Roy runs a hand through his hair, staring at the tile by his feet, thinking. For a moment, he says nothing, then finally looks back up at Wally and says,

"What I keep coming back to is that I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway."

Setting aside his empty jerky wrapper, Wally frowns.

"I'm not sure I get it."

"I'm not sure you would," Roy says flatly. "You ever been high before?"

Wally tries not to react, really he does. But the air just seems to want to get into his lungs too quickly, and the sharp intake of breath is totally audible.

"But I thought you…you…"

"Quit?" Roy supplies. "Yeah. I did. Relapsed about a month ago. Went into treatment again shortly after. As I said, bad few weeks."

He gestures to his apartment, and Wally starts to understand.

"Did Kaldur know that?"

"Know what?"

"Any of it."

"Yeah. Half. Knew I'd started using again. Didn't know I was trying to stop."

"Right," Wally murmurs uncomfortably. He has a hard time imagining Kaldur just _leaving _Roy struggling with this – it's not like either of them to abandon the other mid-fight, and they all know that Roy's addiction the toughest battle he's ever fought, will _ever_ fight.

They're silent for a long time, both just eating and avoiding the other's eyes. Wally isn't really sure how to approach this. His relationship with Roy isn't built to handle this kind of thing – they're supposed to laugh and horse around and annoy each other, supposed to have a good time and call each other bad names and eat junk food until they're sick. That's how it's always worked with the two of them. They're definitely not supposed to be sitting in a sea of mess, silenced by the heavy weight of the topic at hand.

Yet someone has to be here. _Someone _has to look out for Roy right now, and Robin's busy and Kaldur's gone, in so many ways, so here Wally is, and he's out of beef jerky, so he really has to say something now. What comes out is:

"Do you mind if I just uh, hang out here for a bit? I have homework."

He's expecting Roy to roll his eyes, probably kick him out, make some comment about not wanting his goddamn pity. But instead, the archer just looks over and nods, his expression uncharacteristically subdued.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah, that's…that's cool with me."

As Wally settles into the couch, textbooks spread around him and problem set open in his lap, Roy fills the kitchen sink with water and begins working his way through the dirty dishes randomly strewn throughout his apartment, throwing away empty containers as he goes. They pass the time like this, silent but there, until the sun's going down and the flat's almost clean (or at least not filthy), and Wally's stomach is rumbling yet again, though his homework's only half done.

"My fridge is kind of empty," Roy mutters apologetically at the sound. "Gonna take a quick shower, then maybe takeout or something?"

"Sounds good," Wally says, looking over and nodding.

A minute later, the water comes on in the bathroom. Wally settles back into his calculus, wondering if Roy would be any good at this stuff, because he's tired of writing out every step when he can usually jump to the end and get the right answer anyway, but his teacher docks points if he skips anything…

He's halfway through step D of G of problem 14 of 25 when there's a knock on the door. He can hear the shower still going in the bathroom, so he sets his books aside and goes to answer it himself, checking the peephole before he opens the door.

"Oh," says Dinah in clear surprise when it's Wally standing there, not Roy.

"Wrong redhead, I know, sorry," he says with a halfhearted grin. Usually he'd follow up with some kind of flirtatious comment, but the moment's wrong, and besides, most of that is just a running joke between him and Robin anyway, so there's no point when it's just him. "He's in the shower. Um, what's up?"

"Dinner," Dinah says, lifting up the cardboard box in her arms – inside are several containers, some of which are giving off steam (and a smell that makes the speedster's stomach let out a ravenous little roar). "Mind if I come in?"

He takes the box from her and sets it on the kitchen counter while she pulls off her jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door. Clearly, this routine is familiar to her.

"How's he doing?" she murmurs to him as he opens the cupboards and begins pulling out the dishes Roy washed a few hours before.

"Not really sure," he replies. "Quiet, mostly. Just…yeah. Really quiet."

It's more than that, but he's pretty sure she'll know what he means.

"I'm glad you're here," Dinah says, laying a hand on his shoulder before she begins to lay out the food she's brought over – some kind of casserole, a salad, and what looks like cornbread. "He could use a friend right now."

She opens her mouth to continue when just then, the bathroom door opens and Roy steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his chest from his still-wet hair.

"You okay?" Wally asked, alarmed. Roy's lips are blue, and he's even paler than usual.

"Fine," Roy murmurs, nodding to Dinah as if he's been expecting her. "Shower was…cold. Think I used up the hot water on the dishes."

There's something ragged about his voice as he turns into his bedroom to fetch proper clothes, and Wally and Dinah share a look.

"Little things," she murmurs.

They eat, the three of them gathered around Roy's tiny little kitchen table. The conversation is sparse, mostly Dinah and Wally exchanging small talk about safe topics – Star City, school, the food they're eating – while Roy just seems distracted the whole time, the color slowly returning to his face. But Wally can't help but think that however awkward this is, it's better than what Roy apparently did last night. At least the archer is neither bleeding nor drunk off his ass. Yet.

He helps clean up, then retreats back to his homework – in the kitchen, Roy and Dinah are discussing something in low voices, and he doesn't want to interrupt.

Finally, around eight, Dinah calls out a goodbye, and the front door closes, and Roy comes into the living room, a single can of beer in his hand.

"Hey," Wally greets awkwardly.

"Hey."

He shifts his textbook aside so Roy will have room to sit down on the couch, then the archer picks up the remote and turns the TV to the evening news. Sensing that Roy doesn't want to talk, but could still use the company, Wally sets aside his completed calculus homework and pulls out the book he's supposed to finish for English, flipping to the appropriate chapter and starting to read.

He gets through about eight pages before he chances a glance over at his friend and discovers that _Roy is crying. _Not clutching-the-pillows-and-shaking-with-sobs crying, not trying-not-to-cry-but-crying-anyway crying, nothing dramatic like that; he's just sitting there silently watching the TV, and if Wally hadn't seen the tears rolling down his cheeks he might not have noticed at all, it's so subtle.

All the same, the sight paralyzes him. This is _Roy Harper._ Roy Harper does not cry. Wally's watched Roy have bones broken without so much as an "ouch," and until now, he wouldn't even have bet that the guy had tear ducts at all, but here he is, a foot away on the couch, and it's undeniable, unless his eyes have somehow sprung a leak.

"Roy?" he manages quietly, setting his book aside. "You okay, buddy?"

"Fine," Roy rasps without looking over.

Unsure what exactly to say to that – "doesn't look like it" comes to mind, or perhaps "bullshit," just to take a leaf out of Roy's own book – but he doesn't want to make him talk about anything he doesn't want to. So he says nothing, just sits there and watches the archer watch the TV, waiting.

"I just wish I'd come back sooner," Roy says finally, his voice raw. "I always assumed…there would be a second chance, you know? With him."

Wally reaches out to put his hand on Roy's shoulder, discovering a sudden lump in his own throat.

"Guess I've had more second chances than I deserve already," continues Roy, hanging his head as his voice grows hoarser yet. "I can't say I blame him for just calling it all quits. I just…I can't believe…"

He trails off, something choking the rest of his sentence before he can get it out.

"Maybe this is his way of giving you one," Wally offers. "Another chance."

"Yeah?" Roy asks, turning to give the speedster the bitterest smile he's ever seen. "Maybe. Or maybe he just knew it would've been better if we'd never known each other in the first place. Maybe he just got that it was always going to end the way it did, unless one of us pulled the plug."

"I don't believe that," says Wally softly. "You're his best friend, Roy. "

"Was," Roy corrects. "He doesn't even know who I am anymore."

"Regardless. You could make him smile when no one else could. Obviously _something_ was good about that."

"Yeah, and I could tear him apart like no one else could, too," Roy replies, shaking his head. "Which is exactly what I did. I don't blame him for wanting to forget me, Wally. Sometimes I wish I could forget myself."

Wally bites his lip, lost for words.

"I just want one more chance," Roy whispers, turning his face away. "Not even that. Just…five minutes with him, the version of him that knows me, just to say I didn't mean any of it, not a single goddamn word. I thought he knew. I just…it's so easy to forget how little he thinks of himself, because I see everything that's good and right and beautiful about him all the time, and I just can't believe that he can't see it too, so I never tell him – told him – often enough."

He takes a shuddering breath.

"And I was high, and angry, he was just trying to help, and I just wanted a reaction out of him, one way or another, because he can be so damn cold sometimes, you know? Just so…unresponsive. I never thought he'd believe anything I said when I was like that. And then I just…disappeared, because I couldn't face him again, not so soon after, and I thought I'd get my shit together and he'd be there waiting for me like he always is, but…I never thought…"

He breaks down for a moment, hunching over himself as if he's in some kind of pain, arms wrapping tightly around his own body.

"Fuck, Wally," he gasps. "I can't do this. The whole time in rehab, just thinking of getting back, of making it right, and now…I never can. It's too late. I just…I don't, I can't…"

Wally doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know if there's a solution to this kind of heartbreak. He doesn't even know what to do because this situation is so far out of his experience, he's totally in the dark. Finally, he shifts over so he can move his hand from Roy's shoulder to his back, trying to find a way to convey how sorry he is for all of this, for not trying harder to convince Kaldur to wait just a little longer, for failing to tell Roy what had happened in time to prevent him finding out in the worst possible way…

"I'm sorry," he whispers finally, his own voice choked. "The rest of us…we're all here for you, all right? If you need anything…"

"You shouldn't be," Roy cuts him off, closing his eyes. "I just fuck everything up, Kid. Me and this damn drug. First Ollie and Hal, now Kaldur, after everything he did to get me off it…you should get the hell out of here while you can."

"Nice try," Wally says with a watery smile, patting his friend on the back. "But I'm not going anywhere."

Roy doesn't respond, just silently lays his head on his shoulder, and it's a little awkward with the height difference and whatnot, but Wally just wraps an arm around the archer and takes his weight for a moment.

They stay like that for a while in the flickering light of the TV, until the ten o'clock news is coming on and Wally's phone vibrates, and it's his mother, asking him how many hours past his curfew he intends to get back.

"Go home," Roy tells him, standing up.

"You sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll work it out," the archer says. "I always do. I think."

"Right," Wally nods as he piles his books back into his backpack. "Well, I…good night, then. I'm sorry about…everything."

"Yeah," Roy agrees hoarsely. "Yeah, me too."

On the way to the zeta station, Wally pulls out his phone once more, texts as he walks, everything he's just heard percolating in his head.

_Rob…this is a mistake. We gotta do something._


	5. Four

"_I think you have had enough, my friend," says Kaldur, frowning as Roy gestures to the bartender yet again – the archer already has a fair collection of empty glasses before him, and he has that look in his eye, the one that Kaldur knows means there's something on his mind he's out to destroy._

"_Don't babysit me," Roy snaps. _

_Given a choice between the man trying to give him money and the one trying to talk him out of it, the bartender goes for the profitable option and pours Roy his next drink. _

_Kaldur frowns, watching the lines of his lover's face harden as the archer knocks it back, a dry shot of scotch, no chaser. Roy has been different lately, since that undercover mission he took for the government a few weeks back – evasive, a little surlier than usual, clingy one moment and distant the next without apparent reason. Kaldur has tried on a few occasions to ask what's wrong, but as ever, Roy refuses to have a conversation on anyone else's terms, so Kaldur has resorted to waiting for him to bring it up. _

_So far, it has been a long wait._

"_You gonna have another?"_

"_I had not planned to."_

"_Why the hell not?"_

_Kaldur opens his mouth to explain that one of them needs to be sober enough to get them both home, but given the circumstances, he reconsiders._

"_We have an assignment tomorrow," he says instead. _

_Roy's brow creases. Apparently, this is also a wrong answer._

"_Another one?"_

"_The last was nearly two weeks ago," Kaldur points out. "I do not think they have been unreasonably frequent."_

"_Whatever."_

_Roy looks away, too compromised to hide his disappointment. With a frown, Kaldur reaches over to place a concerned hand on the archer's arm; Roy tenses at the touch but does not pull away, though his gaze stays out in the room, like he's looking something, and even he doesn't know what it is. When a moment passes and neither of them speak, they let the noise of the bar rise up to fill their silence._

_Their night does not end so quietly. On the way out, when Kaldur slips an arm around Roy's shoulders to steady him, a man seated near the exit mutters a word they haven't heard in some time, and despite Kaldur's murmured urging, Roy will not let it go. He is drunk, and angry, and ready for a fight, and the stranger is more than ready to give him one – they end up in the alleyway outside where a few drunken spectators yell violent encouragements and place their bets, and all too soon the two are exchanging blows in the dirty glow of the streetlights._

_Kaldur, for his part, stands quietly against the wall and does not watch. He knows that Roy will win, but he has no desire to see it happen. Despite their work, or perhaps because of it, Kaldur has no taste for bloodshed, particularly this sort, senseless and brutal and utterly unnecessary, and when it is over and Roy approaches him, he offers no congratulations, just checks him for injuries and turns to go without a word._

_They leave the other man groaning on the concrete, tended by his friends, who shout a few parting comments at their backs that Roy (blessedly) ignores._

_In the darkness, they walk the distance to Kaldur's apartment without speaking or touching. Roy stumbles occasionally, weaving from one side of the sidewalk to the other; Kaldur is already thinking of his mission tomorrow, and what preparations he will need to make, how early he will have to awaken to get it all done and arrive at the Cave in time. Roy's behavior does worry him but he cannot help him if he will not talk, and even Kaldur's patience is not limitless – he is tired of this game, of Roy's unpredictable moods, of always being the one to hold his temper when Roy loses his, and perhaps he is also a little hurt that after all they have been through, Roy still does not trust him enough to come clean. _

_They reach the flat. While Roy stands waiting, Kaldur fishes his key out of his pocket and unlocks his apartment, flicking the kitchen light on as he steps inside. Suddenly, even before the door closes at his back, strong arms wrap around him from behind, and hot breath ghosts against the back of his ear, and a callused hand slips up under the front of his shirt and begins to slide up his chest, pulling the fabric up with it._

_Kaldur falters, his body reacting to the sensation automatically. It has been too long since Roy has touched him like this, wanted him like this, and as the archer's lips drag along the side of his neck, his mind flashes ecstatically blank for a moment. But then Roy presses yet closer, and the smell of alcohol washes over them, and the mood breaks. Pulling himself free of his lover's hold, Kaldur turns around and places a hand flat against Roy's chest, which Roy tries to push away._

"_Kal," he half-growls; whether the gruffness is from anger or desire, Kaldur cannot tell. "Come on."_

"_You are drunk, my friend."_

_This isn't the whole story, but Kaldur is not about to explain just why he isn't in the mood when Roy is likely to take it all the wrong way._

"_And?" Roy presses as he manages to wrest Kaldur's hand off him. He steps forward and takes Kaldur's face in his hands, forcing a liquor-bitter kiss on his lips before the Atlantean can stop him. "We done it drunk b'fore."_

_His words are slurred but his intentions are clear, and this time Kaldur is not as gentle when he shoves him away – Roy staggers slightly, knocking against the entry closet door._

"_What the hell?" _

"_You are testing my patience."_

"_Don't be s'damn cold, Kaldur," Roy snaps._

_Kaldur opens his mouth to respond, but Roy's words have struck deeper than he can know. It is not the first time Kaldur has heard them, not even close, and instantly, he questions himself – why __**is**__ he turning Roy away, when they have been waiting all week to see each other, and when the archer clearly needs him, needs the closeness only he can give? When had he become so heartless, so selfish, so hard?_

_Just as he looks up, Roy seems to read the self-doubt in his eyes and curses softly, his own expression crumbling._

"_Kal, I'm sorry, I – "_

"_No," Kaldur interrupts, taking Roy's hands in his own. "I am the one who should be sorry."_

_And before Roy can reply, he kisses him, slowly and sweetly, over and over, until the archer's hesitancy slips away and they both forget about the blood on Roy's knuckles and the doubt that has taken heavy residency in Kaldur's chest._

* * *

><p><strong>Data-Gather, Preliminary Stage: Kid Flash<strong>

* * *

><p>(312): what kind of mistake are we talking, kf?<p>

(217): was just at roys place. hes not doing so good.

(312): what were you expecting?

(217): im not playing around, rob. i havent seen him like that in a long time.

(312): withdrawals are a bitch.

(217): it wasnt just that.

(217): …and wth, u knew?

(312): is he clean?

(217): why didnt u tell us?

(312): wasn't my place. answer my question.

(217): u could have at least told kaldur. and yes, hes clean.

(312): kaldur knew. so what's the mistake?

(217): roy needs him.

(312): we can't overrule AL's decision just because of that.

(217): u dont seriously believe kals happier like this?

(312): maybe he is. that's not for us to decide.

(217): roy said he didnt mean what he said.

(312): do you even _know_ what he said?

(217): no…do u?

(312): no. but it must have been pretty bad.

(217): rob answer me honestly…is there anything i could say to u that would make u want to forget u ever knew me?

(312): …no.

(217): same here. look i know kal must have thought this thru a lot but that doesnt mean its not a mistake. maybe he needed it in the moment but sooner or later hes going to figure out that there is a hole in his life where his best friend is supposed to be. we gotta do something.

(312): …ok. i'll look into it.

(217): thanks rob. bros for life?

(312): duh.

* * *

><p><strong>Data-Gather, Stage One: Black Canary<strong>

* * *

><p>"Can I talk to you a minute?" Dick asks after training, when the others are shuffling off towards the showers and Canary is pulling her jacket back on, about to leave.<p>

"Of course," she replies, straightening out. "Here, or someplace else?"

"Maybe somewhere a little more private," he suggests. Not that it would be the end of the world if Conner overheard this conversation, but this _is _a personal matter, and not even Dick's own. It would be better to respect the privacy of all involved parties.

They end up in the communications room, ironically enough, surrounded by microphones and holoscreens and tracking channels, all currently inactive.

"So," says Dinah, settling into one of the consoles and swiveling to face him. "What's this about?"

"Aqualad and Red Arrow," says Dick simply, and he sees a brief look cross the heroine's face, so subtle and fleeting that most people wouldn't even notice it, but he does – some mixture of regret and disappointment, perhaps with a hint of disbelief. It tells him that he has come to speak to the right person.

"What about them?" Dinah asks, her mannerisms now more controlled.

"I need your professional opinion," he says. "You know them both well, right?"

"Yes," she replies. "As well as either of their own mentors, I think it's fair to say."

Dick knows that – Dinah had been one of the first (possibly _the _first) to know when the two of them had first become an item, and while Dick knows plenty about both his friends individually, he'd had few chances to see them together in that sense. Their partnership had been a subtle thing, not a secret but not exactly public either; Dick had pieced the truth together through the small things – a hand lingering just a little too long; softness in an otherwise gruff tone; sudden warmth in a deameanor usually cool and reserved.

"Were you…surprised, then?" he asks slowly, trying to figure out how best to ask this.

She looks at him, expression neutral.

"By what?"

"Their falling out."

"I think everyone was."

It's a deflection, and Dick needs more specific information than that.

"Kaldur wouldn't have left Roy in the middle of a relapse unless he knew someone else was keeping an eye him," says Dick, trying a new approach. "I'm betting that person was you."

"Yes," Dinah confirms. "I received a communication from Kaldur late one night, asking me to come look after Roy. By the time I got there he was already gone."

"And did Roy say anything about what had happened?"

"Roy was somewhere south of coherent when I arrived. Where are you going with this, Robin?"

"To the point where Kaldur asked M'gann to wipe his memories," says Dick. "Which was…out of character. I want to know if he had all the pieces of the puzzle when he did that, or if there was some kind of misunderstanding."

Dinah leans back and looks away, her expression clouding.

"I…can't give you an answer to that," she says after a moment, looking back to him. "Not only because it isn't my business – or yours – to pass judgment on something that's already happened, but because I don't know. Kaldur didn't consult me."

"He didn't?" asks Dick in surprise. He'd assumed at the very least, Kaldur had sought _someone's _counsel before taking action, if only because the Atlantean was normally so cautious, and Canary would have been the logical (and precedented) choice.

"No," Dinah replies, crossing her legs. "If I had to guess, I'd say he worried I was too close to Roy to give him impartial advice."

"Right," Dick frowns.

They're silent a moment as he processes this new information, until finally Dinah shifts in her chair, bringing him back to the present moment.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" she asks.

"One more question, sorry," he says, thinking. "Would you say…would you say this was inevitable, eventually? I mean the fallout, not the memory erasure. Did you see it coming?"

Dinah pauses, staring at him as if trying to decide whether or not to say something. Then she opens her mouth, hesitates once more, and says,

"Not in a thousand years."

Dick nods, satisfied. He thanks Canary, fires off a text to Wally, and heads for the showers.

Stage one complete.

* * *

><p><strong>Data-Gather, Stage Two: Miss Martian<strong>

* * *

><p>She's not in the kitchen, which catches him off guard. She's in there so often he'd pretty much assumed she'd at least be in the vicinity, trying out some new recipe or another, but as it turns out she's outside on the beach, even though it's kind of cold for that.<p>

"Hey," he says, quietly so as not to startle her. She turns, the wind stirring the ends of her hair, and smiles at his approach.

"Hey, Robin," she greets. "What's up?"

From her tone, he can tell she's surprised to see him (he usually leaves after training on weekdays), but it's not an unwelcome kind of surprise. She's been a little sad since the encounter with Roy and he knows that she still doubts her judgment, so he deduces that she's probably out here to think, and would be glad of the company.

"Can I talk to you about the whole memory thing?" he asks, cutting straight to the point.

M'gann nods.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," she confesses.

"Yeah?"

"I just don't know what I should have done," she continues, biting her lip. "He was so…just, so sad. I just wanted to help."

"No one blames you," Dick reassures her, laying a hand on her arm. "Things are just a little more complicated than we thought, I guess."

"I know," she sighs. "I…don't know what to do."

"You said it was like Bialya, right?" he asks, and she nods in confirmation. "You restored our memories then. Could you do it again? Just put the pieces back together the way you took them apart?"

"I…no," M'gann says haltingly, and looks even more miserable, as if embarrassed by her own inability to undo what she has done. "I wish I could, but it's not that simple this time."

"How so?"

"Well…imagine that your memory is made up of thousands of threads," she begins to explain, "all of them stretching back to the first time you experienced something, a person or a place or a feeling. When Psimon made us forget, he took everything, six months' whole cloth, so you were left with a bunch of frayed ends, incomplete chains of memory that your mind really did want to fill in – that's how you and Wally and Artemis knew you'd lost your memories."

"Right," says Dick, trying to follow.

"It was easy for me to go in and find those frayed places," M'gann continues. "Then all I had to do was fix the severances, and you were linked back up with the rest of your memory. What Psimon did was a quick hack-off. But what I did to Kaldur…it's…cleaner, because I was cutting off a specific thread, all the way back to its root. His mind doesn't recognize that anything is wrong, because there's no start or end or even a piece of that thread connected to anything else anymore, it's been too neatly severed. Our telling him that he's forgotten something won't change that."

"But they're still there?" checks Dick. "The memories?"

"Theoretically," M'gann says, biting her lip. "But realistically…they're lost. I don't know where to look. There's no damage to mark the place where that thread was."

"Right," Dick frowns. He's silent a moment, trying to navigate this new perspective on memory.

"I'm sorry," M'gann says after a moment, her shoulders slumping. "I wish…I wish I could help."

"You already have," Dick says, shaking his head and giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Here's another question, though. If we somehow managed to make Kaldur remember any part of that thread – of his past with Roy – could you use that to dig up the rest of it?"

"Well, yes," replies M'gann hesitantly. "But it wouldn't be enough just to tell him what he should be remembering."

Dick shakes his head, tapping his index finger on his forehead as he thinks.

"Memory is more than just remembering the facts," he says. "I get that. But you saw that look on his face when Roy kissed him, right after he'd found out about the whole thing. There was still something there."

"A trigger," M'gann says suddenly, turning to him as her eyes light up in recognition. "A sufficiently powerful trigger _could _bring a subconscious memory to the surface, and make it conscious again."

He nods – some good news, at last.

"And from there, you could do the rest?"

She nods, the hint of a hopeful smile lighting up her face.

"Excellent," Dick says. "Thanks for the help, Megan."

He claps her on the arm and heads for the Cave, already pulling out his phone.

(312): kf, when are you going to see roy next?

(217): prob tomorrow after school, y?

(312): got a job for you.

* * *

><p><strong>Data-Gather, Stage Three: Aqualad<strong>

* * *

><p>There's only one thing left to do.<p>

One thing Dick has learned from Batman is that having a good plan isn't enough – you have to be certain it's the _best_ plan, because you could end up living with the consequences longer than you know, and nothing bites worse than realizing that a little more fact-checking could have saved you a world of trouble. So while it's enough to him on one level that KF and Canary believe things shouldn't have ended the way they did, that M'gann thinks it's possible to restore Kaldur's lost memories, he needs to see for himself that they're doing the right thing in trying to reverse the events of the last few weeks. After all, Kaldur made his decision for a reason. If they're going to overrule him, they'd better be damn sure it's for the best.

He finds his team leader in the library, poring over a set of sorcery textbooks.

"Hey, Kaldur," says Dick as he slides into the chair opposite him.

"Good evening," Kaldur greets, looking up from his books and setting his pen aside. In front of him are notes and diagrams and charts, copied out in the meticulous hand of a scholar-soldier; it seems he's been up here for many hours, studying.

"Haven't had a chance to check in for a while," says Dick. "How're you doing?"

It's an odd question, because of course to Kaldur this last week has been no different from any other, but it's worth asking.

"I am well," Kaldur replies evenly. "And yourself?"

"Fine," Dick dismisses. He turns one of Kaldur's books towards himself; he can't read a word of the Atlantean, but the pictures are pretty cool, displaying the various stances needed for certain spells, or the different energy configurations that will boost the endurance or speed or strength of a construct. "Whatcha studying?"

"These books were a parting gift to me from Queen Mera," Kaldur explains. "When I left the Academy, she did not want me to forget what I had learned there."

"Got it," Dick nods, turning the page. "It's review, then?"

"Mostly," says Kaldur. "The later chapters are beyond my skill."

"Fair enough."

Dick flicks through a few more pages, mentally sorting through various ways of steering this conversation in a more personal direction. Ultimately he opts to lead the charge himself, though he can only say so much. Hopefully it will be enough.

"You know, when I first started working with Bats, he let me keep up with what I'd been doing before," he says casually, keeping his eyes on the book. There's an illustration of a woman using a wand to create a protective dome around herself, but Dick's mind is elsewhere – he's remembering the trapeze Bruce had installed in the Batcave a few weeks after he'd taken him in. It had taken him months to work up the courage to use it (too much baggage), but when he had, he'd found solace in the familiar, a comfort nothing else could have given him. He has a suspicion these books are like that trapeze.

He looks up to find that Kaldur is watching him, as if waiting for him to go on.

"You miss it, ever?" he asks. "Life before the hero gig?"

"No," says Kaldur slowly. "Though…I am not without regrets."

"Yeah?"

Kaldur shrugs, looking back down at his notes.

"It is of little consequence."

"Then there's no harm in saying it."

Kaldur is silent a moment, thumb brushing over the corner of the paper.

"I do wonder, sometimes…" he begins hesitantly. "Of late, I find myself questioning my place on the surface world."

"What do you mean?"

"I have great affection for the team," Kaldur clarifies, looking up at Dick. "I count you all among my closest friends, without a doubt. But if I am honest with myself, I sometimes wonder if this is truly where I belong."

Dick nods, remembering something.

"Are you homesick?" he asks.

"It is not quite that simple," replies Kaldur, brow furrowing. "It is more that I find my days…empty, somehow. That when I am not with the team…I am unsure of my purpose."

He stares at the books, and a strange look crosses his face, a frustrated sort of concentration. Kaldur isn't usually so open with stuff like this, but Dick has a feeling it's been on his mind, and since he's been invited to share, he's taking the opportunity.

"Well, you have a lot of spare time you didn't used to have," he points out softly.

"I am aware," Kaldur frowns, and Dick recalls the Atlantean's reaction when they'd explained his own actions to him – incredulity, confusion, then finally acceptance.

"Maybe you just need to find something else to do," he suggests, playing devil's advocate to his own purposes. "Something to fill the time, you know?"

"Perhaps," Kaldur sighs, gathering his papers into a single stack. "Or perhaps…when the opportunity presents itself, after you have assumed leadership, I will…return home for a little while. A sojourn, to clear my head."

As he listens, Dick knows what Kaldur is really saying, even if Kaldur himself doesn't realize he's saying it: if he goes home to Atlantis, he won't be coming back. As much as the team respects and appreciates Kaldur (and they do, plenty), they can't give him what Roy gave him: purpose, passion, a place to belong. Just as Kaldur is Roy's anchor, grounding him through the chaos and pain of his own fucked-up life, Roy is Kaldur's, the one who finally penetrated through all the distance and self-doubt and proved that he _does_ belong here, and always can.

Without Roy, Kaldur is drifting, and he doesn't even know it.

"Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do," says Dick, rising from his chair. "Good luck."

Kaldur returns to his studies, and probably never realizes that Dick was not speaking about Atlantis at all.


	6. Five

_When Kaldur lets himself in, Roy is right in the middle of packing his kit up. _

_The Atlantean's eyes flick briefly over the tools – the spoon, the lighter, the tourniquet, the syringe – then move to meet Roy's. Neither of them move._

_The silence is awful._

_After far too much time, Kaldur breaks it._

"_How long?" he asks flatly. _

_Roy goes back to what he was doing, tearing his eyes away from Kaldur's as he sets each item carefully back in the case, then closes it. _

"_Two weeks."_

_Kaldur wants to be angry. He wants to slam the door, wants to shout, wants to grab Roy by the shoulders and shake him until he sees how utterly stupid he is being, throwing away hard-earned recovery and three years' clean living like this. But it is not in his nature to judge recklessly, and so even as he presses the door shut and steps inside, he is searching his mind for good reasons Roy could have fallen like this, for the extenuating circumstances that will make this not Roy's fault because Kaldur so desperately wants it not to be. _

"_Are you all right?" he asks at last, torn between keeping his distance to convey his disapproval or moving close to express his concern._

"_Fine," Roy mutters. He cracks his neck slowly as he tips his chair back against the wall, and Kaldur notices that his pupils are already dilating, hazy black taking over the clear blue of his eyes. "Isn't this the part where you yell at me?"_

"_I am certain you could guess everything I would say."_

_Roy laughs a strange, low laugh. There's none of the affection in it that Kaldur is used to hearing, and none of the humor, either – it sounds almost like a noise of pain._

"_Fuck you," he says idly._

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_I said fuck you," Roy says, louder this time. "Get the hell out of here, Kal."_

It's the drug_, Kaldur tells himself. _The drug is making him irritable.

"_I am not going anywhere, my friend," he says with a calmness he does not feel. He leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest as if to emphasize his point._

_Roy makes a noise of disgust low in his throat. He turns his head away, his body far too still – normally he is full of tension and movement, fists clenched or fingers drumming on his leg. Now he is practically limp, arms hanging off the side of his chair._

"_Sometimes I fucking hate you," he mutters. _

_Kaldur knows he shouldn't be taking these words to heart, but his stomach twists all the same. Still, he says nothing, keeping himself centered and calm on the outside, because Roy is not Roy right now. Roy does not know what he is saying, cannot be held responsible. _

_When a long moment passes and Kaldur still has not responded, Roy turns back, anger flashing in his blackened eyes. _

"_What the hell s'wrong with you?" he snaps, his tongue tripping on the words. "You're like a fucking robot. I hate you."_

"_You are high," Kaldur replies quietly._

"_And you're _boring," _Roy shoots back with another not-laugh. "God, I can't believe it took me this long to track down my dealer. You're so fucking boring, you made _me _boring."_

_Kaldur looks away so that Roy will not see the nascent cracks in his cool façade, but the evasion only seems to rile the archer more – Roy rises from his chair, leaning towards Kaldur, the words dripping contemptuously off his lips:_

"_Shit, Kaldur, the only interesting thing about you is your parentage, and you're too damn scared to own up to it."_

_Kaldur's chest tightens. Roy is the only one he has told about Manta since Aquaman informed him of the truth a few months' back. To have it thrown in his face like this…_

This is not Roy. This is a product of the heroin and the stress of their work. This is not Roy.

_But it is becoming increasingly difficult for Kaldur to believe that as Roy advances on him, crossing the short distance between them to press a threatening hand against the wall beside his head. _

"_Kiss me," he demands as he leans in, his other hand fisting into the fabric of Kaldur's shirt._

"_You are not yourself," Kaldur objects, wresting Roy's hands off him and turning his head so that Roy's mouth presses against his cheek, not his lips. _

"_Kiss me," Roy hisses, more insistent this time as he grabs Kaldur's face, turns it to his own, leans in…_

_Kaldur punches him._

_Roy staggers back, confusion rapidly turning to fury as he lifts a hand to the side of his face, where the blow landed. For a moment, a look of recognition passes over his face, but it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a frightening calm._

"_You really are a robot," he says, voice low and cold and spiteful. "You don't feel a damn thing, do you?"_

_Kaldur does not respond. He stays against the wall, breathing too quickly. _

"_Didn't think so," Roy spits out scornfully, turning away. "It's no wonder Tula left you. You make me fucking sick, Kaldur. I wish I could forget I ever knew you."_

_Roy is an excellent marksman, and his aim is as true now as ever._

_Kaldur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to master the tempest raging in the hollow of his chest, but it feels as if something has physically broken deep inside. He feels at once empty and full of a thousand horrible things, numb and yet in terrible, terrible pain. For once, he does not know what to do._

_So he leaves. _

_He radios Black Canary on his way out, hands trembling but voice steady, asks her to come look after Roy. She says she'll be there in ten minutes, and does not ask questions. As he walks away, the guilt weighs on him for abandoning Roy in this state, but he needs to get away from the toxic hatred of those words, from the shattered illusion in which he's believed for so long. He cannot stay there. He might break._

_Time passes. Kaldur waits for Roy to contact him, but the call never comes; his performance suffers on the team. It takes him four days to work up the courage to return to Roy's apartment, but at last he does, making his way there on a crisp February afternoon. _

_When he knocks, the door is answered by a lithe young woman with black hair and a pretty face. She is wearing one of Roy's shirts and not much else. Before she can say a word, Kaldur turns away, and leaves._

_Time wears on. Roy still does not call. Eventually, Kaldur stops checking to see if he has._

* * *

><p>Roy wakes up to five text messages and two missed calls, all from Wally.<p>

_STOP BEING A RECLUSE,_ the last one reads.

Groaning, the archer rolls over and forces himself up, picking his way through the mess of his bedroom and into the bathroom, which isn't much better. There are clothes all over the floor in both, and the contents of the medkit are still strewn all over the bathroom counter from where he patched himself up last night after patrol. He's in need of a piss and a shower before he can return calls with any level of civility. Wally will have to wait.

When he steps into the steam of the shower, he lets out a small noise of relief as the warmth relaxes his aching muscles (his apartment has hot water again, for which he's grateful; cold showers always remind him of Kaldur, and he's trying not to think about that lately). Out of habit, he runs a hand over the track marks in the crook of his left elbow. Some days it makes him want the drug. Some days it makes him angry, at himself, at Ollie, at the world. Today, it just reminds him of the price he's paid for succumbing to his darker side, for giving in to the monster that lurks far closer to the surface than the others would ever guess.

The kitchen is cleaner than the rest of the flat, probably because Roy hasn't been doing much eating lately, not since Jade left and suddenly there was no one to make him do it. He still doesn't remember exactly when she showed up – after his falling out with Kaldur, he'd spiraled, shooting up more and more frequently in an attempt to forget everything (or perhaps end everything), until he'd woken up one night to find her in his bathroom, breaking his needles one by one and pouring the rest of his stash down the drain. When he'd tried to stop her, she broke his nose.

As he marks a slash across today's date on the refrigerator calendar – 29 days clean – he finds himself wondering where she is now. They first met on an undercover mission for the government about two months back, the one he failed because ultimately he couldn't turn her in. She was too much like him: angry, prideful, and hurting, with a family as broken as his own; he never told Kaldur, and even now, he's not sure why. Part of him wants to blame her for how it all turned out in the end, but his more reasonable side knows that he's in her debt. Just when he'd pushed away everyone who cared about him, she showed up and refused to be moved. Whatever she might have cost him, he owes her his life.

Turning his thoughts to the present, Roy opens the refrigerator and looks around for something to eat, because although he's not particularly hungry, he knows he should be, and he doesn't want to pass out on anyone. They worry enough about him as it is.

He calls Wally as he cooks himself some 3PM breakfast.

"This is me not being a recluse," he says when he hears the line go live. "What do you want?"

He doesn't mean to sound so hostile. It's just a default setting, which probably explains how he has so few friends.

"Nice to know you're still with us," says Wally, sounding more energetic than Roy is really ready to deal with this soon after waking. "We were beginning to think you'd kicked it on patrol or something."

"Just asleep, Kid," Roy mutters, stirring his makeshift omelets. "I do that sometimes, you know."

"What, getting soft in your old age?"

"Can it, whippersnapper," Roy shoots back. "What do you want?"

"I wanna hang out," says Wally. "I never see you anymore."

Roy can't really argue with that. He's been avoiding everyone, in part because he hates the way they all walk on eggshells around him, afraid of upsetting him (as if anything they could say could possibly make this worse than it is), and in part because he's probably punishing himself. He knows that what he did to Kaldur was unforgiveable. In some strange way, knowing that he's making himself miserable makes him feel a tiny bit less scummy.

"Fine," Roy says at last. He _has _been lonely. He's just figured that he's supposed to be. "When?"

"Tonight," Wally suggests. "Halo Reach, cooperative. Let's kick some alien butt."

"Your house?"

"I was thinking the Cave. Bigger screen, better speakers, comfier couch."

Roy is silent a second.

"Kaldur's in Atlantis," Wally says quietly. "He won't be there."

After a moment, Roy grunts his assent.

"Fine. I'll be there after dinner sometime."

As he settles in to eat his mangled eggs, he can't help but wonder why Kaldur has left for home. Is something wrong? Is he visiting his king, or his mother? Is he lonely…?

_Knock it off, Harper, _he tells himself, angrily stabbing his fork into his hapless breakfast. _You've done enough damage as it is._

* * *

><p>"Headshot!" Wally cackles boastfully, reloading his sniper rifle and hopping his character up to a better vantage point.<p>

"He was standing still," Roy points out as he maneuvers his tank into a tunnel. "It would have been embarrassing if you'd missed."

"You're just jealous because you're supposed to be the long-range expert," Wally grins, firing off a few rounds at the swarming mass of alien aggression in the valley below.

"Please," Roy scoffs. "Like there's any correlation with _real _marksmanship here."

"You keep talking, but all I hear is '_I'm Roy and I'm a sooore loser_!'" Wally mimics, laughing and reaching over to grab the bowl of chips sitting on the couch between them.

"Remind me again why we're friends?" Roy asks grouchily, but the corners of his mouth are twitching upwards. He knows Wally is doing this deliberately – caricaturing himself to try and lighten the mood – and it's working. Roy appreciates it more than the speedster can know, but he has to stay in character himself or the moment will be ruined.

They finish the level, Roy blasting the living daylights out of their last opponents with his tank and Wally chasing after with a rocket launcher, eight parts enthusiasm to one part aim and zero parts strategy.

"Man, I wish we got extra lives on _real _missions," Wally sighs, setting his controller aside and pulling his legs up onto the couch. "I'd try out way cooler moves if I knew I had a few free screw-ups."

"I wouldn't mind getting fresh ammo every time I respawned," Roy agrees. He's thinking of the number of times he's run out of arrows at some critical moment or another. It's not always easy working with projectiles.

"You wanna go get a midnight snack?" Wally asks after a moment, glancing into the empty chip bowl.

"It's barely eleven," Roy points out. He should be on patrol, but he hasn't actually taken a break since he got out of rehab, and his body could probably use the rest.

"Yeah but I'm hungry, and no one complains when I eat food from the Cave pantry," says Wally.

"All right, fine. Knock yourself out," Roy shrugs, standing up and yawning. Truth be told, he could probably stand to eat something with a little substance to it anyway.

They make their way down to the Cave kitchen. It's quiet – M'gann and Conner are out for a late-night flight, and all the others are presumably at home or with their mentors – and Roy slowly realizes how lonely he's really been these last few weeks. He misses spending time here. He misses being part of the gang, if not part of the team, misses Rob and KF's crazy antics, misses the awkward alien moments Conner and M'gann have every so often, even misses bickering with Artemis.

But more than anything, he misses Kaldur. There aren't _words _for how badly he misses Kaldur.

He sits down at the table as Wally roots through the fridge and the pantry, procuring enough food to feed a small army (which technically the team is_, _Roy supposes). Watching the speedster tuck in, Roy leans back in his chair and picks away at the protein bar in his hands, trying to convince himself to have an appetite.

"Whatcha thinking?" Wally asks when he notices Roy's vacant expression.

Roy keeps his mouth shut for a second, wondering if he's even allowed to ask. But…he wants to know, and Wally isn't likely to hold it against him, so he sets down the protein bar and looks over at his friend.

"How is he?" he asks quietly, not even sure what answer he's hoping for.

Wally contemplates this, peeling down his banana and taking a bite.

"Quiet," he says after a moment. "He's quiet."

"He's always been quiet," Roy points out.

"Yeah but it's a different kind of quiet now," Wally frowns, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know. You were always better at reading him than the rest of us."

"All right," Roy mutters, nodding.

"I know he was pretty torn up about the choice he made," Wally adds, his voice lower, gentler. "When we explained it to him. He said it didn't sound like – "

But Wally cuts himself off abruptly as the computer's voice filters in from the training room next door.

_Recognized: Aqualad, B-02._

Roy stands up, heart pounding.

"You said he wouldn't be here," he hisses to Wally, who just shrugs helplessly.

"He said he'd be back tomorrow. How was I supposed to know he'd change his plans?"

"I need to leave," Roy mutters. "I have to go."

"Roy, it's – "

" – I'll see you later," he interrupts. "Tell Rob I said…something. Whatever."

Before Wally can stop him, he's heading for the zeta-tubes, fists tight at his sides as he resolutely does _not _look at Kaldur, who is crossing the room towards the stairs that lead up to the living quarters and the library. He can't face him yet, this man who has the eyes and voice and gait of _his _Kaldur but who regards him with nothing but polite regret. He's just not ready.

There is seawater on the metal floor of the zeta-tubes. As he feels his particles energizing, about to make the cross-country journey from Happy Harbor to Star City, Roy breathes in the scent deeply and lets memory wash over him for just a moment, buoying him up like a great wave that he knows will only smash him against the rocks of his self-made reality.

* * *

><p>A week goes by. Roy finally goes grocery shopping, starts to eat right and try to get his act together, because as much as he'd love to wallow in misery and squalor for all eternity to prove just how sorry he is, there's no one to be sorry <em>to<em>, and he has bills to pay and crimes to stop in the meanwhile. There's no sense in running self-destruction to its natural conclusion, not while he can still do some good.

Wally and Robin invite him over to hang out and play video games every few days, but he turns them down, choosing instead to focus on the job and – he doesn't want to use the word, but it's the endgame – moving on.

To be real, though, it's not going very well. He wakes up in the morning and reaches for a body that isn't there. He goes to the store and automatically puts foods in his cart that he doesn't even like, just because he's used to buying them for someone else. He cracks open a beer on his evening off and reaches for his phone only to remember that that number isn't in it anymore. Kaldur is in his every routine, ingrained into his very habits, and it's going to take Roy a long time to relearn how to live without him.

The loneliness gets to him a few weekends later, though, and he finally calls Robin back, asks if he wants to put in some training time together. He's secretly relieved when the Boy Wonder insists they use the Cave's facilities, and shows up in full gear that evening, ready to get schooled, because that's what always happens when he and Robin go hand-to-hand. Close range is not Roy's specialty.

The Cave is livelier tonight than it was when it was just him and Wally. Zatanna is over, and she and Artemis are having some kind of cooking adventure in the kitchen that Wally is "supervising," which Roy takes to mean "extensively sampling" based on past experience. The girls' voices provide the soundtrack for his spar with Robin. They warm up with some basic footwork exercises, then get right down to it.

As expected, Robin makes quick work of him, at least at first. The kid is just too damn fast, and Roy's been too distracted lately; he's out of practice with close combat. The computer announces his failure many times before he really starts to hit his groove, but he does gets better as the evening progresses, reaction times slowly decreasing until in a moment of triumph, Robin tries to fake him out with a high-kick to low-drop move and Roy simply grabs his leg in mid-air and sweeps him right off his feet. He catches the smaller boy before he can hit the ground.

"Congratulations," Robin grins as Roy lets him down, both of them breathing lightly. "You're marginally faster than a crippled hippopotamus now."

"Shut it, birdface," Roy shoots back, but he's biting back a grin of his own. It feels good to be back in the game.

"Go again?" asks Robin.

Roy nods his agreement and they fall seamlessly back into combat stances, each assessing the other's strengths and weaknesses as their mentors have taught them. Before long they're back at it, dodging and ducking and lashing out with calculated jabs that miss as often as they land.

Roy's so caught up in the fight that he doesn't notice when three figures step out of the upstairs hallway onto the landing at the top of the training room. But when he and Robin step back to take a breather, he looks up and sees M'gann, Conner and Kaldur standing there, looking down at them, and out of sheer force of habit he flashes a small smile.

The awkward hand Conner lifts to greet him reminds him that habit cannot help him here, not anymore. The smile drops off his face and he turns away on the pretense of taking a drink from his water bottle.

Robin seems to sense Roy's change of mood and steps back onto the holomat, resuming a defensive stance.

"C'mon," he invites quietly. "Let's see this out."

Though he's unsure if Robin is talking about the spar or something else entirely, Roy tosses his water aside and steps back into the fight without hesitation.

It's a much fairer match than it was when Roy first walked in. He's getting better and better at using his height and weight to his advantage, and he's learning to take a few minor hits for the good of a longer-term maneuver, to wait for a moment when he can catch Robin off his guard (not easy). And furthermore, he's concentrating with the deadly focus of someone who's trying not to think about something else.

At the last minute, he spies an opening, a rare gap in Robin's usually impeccable defenses. It's odd, and out of character, and for a split second Roy thinks it must be intentional, maybe a trap, but he goes for it anyway. And weirdly enough, despite the fact that he's seen the Boy Wonder dodge similar attacks before, it works – Robin ends up on his back, grimacing as the computer proclaims Roy the victor.

As he helps his friend back to his feet, Roy dares to cast another glance upwards. M'gann and Conner are descending the stairs, the Martian floating beside the Kryptonian as they chat easily. But Kaldur is simply leaning against the railing, looking down over the room, watching him. At this distance it's impossible to read his expression with any certainty – hell, it's difficult even up close with Kaldur – but if Roy had to guess, he'd say the Atlantean looks…interested.

Not to mention every inch as handsome as Roy remembers.

"I should probably go," he mutters, tearing his gaze away as his stomach flips uncomfortably.

"You know it doesn't matter to him if you're here," Robin remarks, voice low. "You don't have to leave on his account."

"I know," Roy replies, trying to ignore the feeling that he's still being watched. "It's…not that."

"Beating yourself up forever isn't going to help anything either."

Roy shoots Robin a look.

"I stick to my strengths."

He leaves them to enjoy the dubious fruits of Artemis and Zatanna's culinary labors, but as he hits the streets in Star City that night, he's unable to shake the memory of that curious look on Kaldur's face, and as he collapses into bed at sunrise, he's unable to deny that he wants to see it again.

* * *

><p>Despite his best efforts to stay away (only distance is going to let him let go), Roy finds himself back at the Cave not a week later, once again at Wally and Robin's invitation. His apartment doesn't exactly have exercise facilities, and though patrol itself is workout enough, he's been itching for some raw reps, the kind he used to put in with Ollie when he was still a millionaire and Roy was still his sidekick. It always cleared his mind then, so maybe it will now, too.<p>

That's his excuse, anyway.

Wally's running laps around the track while Zatanna throws up various magical obstacles for him to dodge. Robin and Artemis are doing agility exercises in the urban-imitation structure Hal put up for them a few weeks back; the Boy Wonder is showing his teammate how to backflip off a fire escape, eliminating the need for turn-around time. Roy is on the weight machines. It's not exciting, and it's not as novel as what the others are doing, but it feels good, and it's kind of amusing to watch Wally eat shit every so often when Zatanna gets the better of him.

Artemis approaches him towards the end of his rounds, bow over her shoulder.

"How about a little target practice, Harper?" she says.

He's a bit surprised – the two of them have never exactly been friends – but he grunts his assent and finishes off his last set of reps on the shoulder fly, stretching briefly before he grabs his bow and follows her down the hall to the range.

"Computer," Artemis says as they enter. "Target trajectory pattern P-04."

The computer obliges whatever this order apparently meant and the lights drop as Artemis hands Roy a quiver of practice arrows. Soon holographic targets are flying through the air as the two archers take aim and let fly, the computer announcing the new score tally every ten seconds or so. Dull, sensor-equipped arrows thud into the padded back of the room, filling the competitive silence that's welled up between the two of them, until finally the simulation ends and the lights go back up as the computer announces the final score.

Technically, Roy has won – it's 47 to 45, out of the 50 arrows they each had to start. A little while ago he might have mocked her for the two-point difference, but he's gained some humility since then, and he gets that with such a slim margin of victory, they may as well call it a tie.

"You're good," he concedes as they step forward to pull the arrows from the target wall.

"I know," she replies.

He passes her a few of her arrows from his side, and she returns the gesture in kind. They refill their quivers until the job is done, when she suddenly turns to him and asks,

"Stay for dinner?"

The question surprises him, but not as much as he surprises himself when he says yes.

Dinner turns out to be a full-team affair. When he walks into the kitchen, showered and dressed in the spare civvies he brought for the return trip, M'gann is pulling fresh bread out of the oven as Conner hefts an enormous pot off the stove and carries it over to the table, where Kaldur is setting out bowls and cups. Freezing in the doorway, Roy fights the impulse to turn and get the hell out of there before they notice him, and _damn Artemis _for tricking him like this, but he stops himself, and takes a deep breath instead. Time to grow up.

"Can I help?" he asks, stepping into the room.

Three heads turn towards him, but only Kaldur looks surprised. Empathic detection and super-hearing,Roy supposes.

"Artemis invited me," he clarifies. "If…if it's a problem, I can go."

Conner and M'gann look at each other, then at Kaldur, silently deferring to their team leader.

"Of course it is not," the Atlantean says after a moment's tense silence. He offers Roy a polite smile, which warms and breaks the archer's heart all at once. "There is plenty of food. I will set another place."

And it's just like Kaldur to make it seem like it was the food that was in question when they all know that wasn't the issue. It's those tiny, deft, unspoken gestures of kindness that make him so _good, _too good for someone as rough and reckless as Roy.

"Here," says M'gann brightly as Kaldur moves to fetch another bowl. "You can slice up the bread, and put it in a basket. I think there's one in the cabinet next to the pantry."

"Sure," Roy nods, his voice gruffer than he intended. He steps over to the center island and accepts the knife she floats his way, turning the first steaming loaf towards himself and wincing when it burns his fingers.

"Careful," M'gann smiles. "It's hot."

He opens his mouth to make some kind of spiteful retort, but stops himself and goes back to the task at hand instead. He's lost that right. At his back, Kaldur brushes past en route to the refrigerator, and a chill runs down Roy's spine.

After a few minutes, Zatanna and Artemis wander in and set about helping Conner dish out the seafood curry, which Artemis pronounces sufficiently authentic – apparently it's her recipe. The smell reminds Roy of what Jade made for him the first night he could actually keep food down. When at last Robin and KF arrive, hair still damp from their respective showers, the eight of them bicker out seats, settle in, and begin to eat.

It's almost like the meals they all used to have, back before Roy wrecked everything. Artemis drenches all her food in hot sauce before even tasting it. Wally finishes his fourth bowl before anyone has had seconds. Robin invents backstories for the various shrimp and fish that went into the curry, pretends they were all personal friends of Kaldur's and apologizes profusely, despite the fact that Kaldur has clarified dozens of times that Atlanteans _do_ eat seafood. Zatanna laughs at his antics and compliments the chefs, who chat with the others while clearly carrying on a simultaneous psychic conversation with just each other. It's noisy and disordered and juvenile and Roy is just starting to feel his age when suddenly, from the far side of the table, Kaldur catches his eye and offers him a small, amused smile.

For a second, it's like nothing ever changed. It's the two of them all over again, too old for the team and too young for the League, sharing a private joke that the others couldn't possibly understand, not just because of their age but because Roy and Kaldur aren't just soldiers by trade, they're soldiers by _nature_ – The others can see that, but they can never be a part of it, and it's that common ground that drew them together in the first place, when they were so different in every other sense…

"You gonna finish that?" Wally asks, eyeing Roy's unfinished curry and breaking his reverie.

"It's yours," the archer says, nudging the bowl in front of the speedster as he tears his eyes away from Kaldur's. Its contents disappear in seconds. He really doesn't envy whoever foots the bill for the Cave's food expenses.

When dessert is finished and Zatanna has the dishes doing themselves in the sink, Roy checks the time and rises to excuse himself – patrol awaits. No one is more surprised than him when Kaldur offers to escort him to the zeta-tubes. Though Roy's heart clenches nervously at the thought of any one-on-one interaction, he can't bring himself to object.

They cross the training room in silence, and Roy has to wonder if this is as painfully awkward for Kaldur as it is for him, because you really don't know the meaning of awkward until you're walking beside your ex best friend who you've been sleeping with for two years and he doesn't even remember your first kiss, much less the way you shattered his heart in a heroin-fueled fit of defensive frustration.

As they reach the zeta-tubes and Roy crouches to pick up his bow and his bag, he hesitates, unsure why Kaldur bothered to come with him if he didn't plan on saying anything. But the Atlantean is quiet. Roy knows that look, though – he's still choosing his words, and unlike the rest of them, he's not going to speak until he's done thinking it through. Folding his arms across his chest, Roy leans back against the wall of the tube and waits with the patience he learned from the best.

"I can only imagine what you must think of me," Kaldur says at last, his voice quiet, perhaps even embarrassed, though Roy can't fathom why he would be.

"I don't follow," he replies, waiting for his…well, for Kaldur to go on. Can you be friends with someone if you know them but they don't know you?

"The others informed me of our…history," Kaldur says softly. "I cannot know what I was thinking when I asked Miss Martian to purge it from my memory, but it is clear to me that I have hurt you in doing so. And I wish to tell you that though I may not know you as I apparently once did, I am…truly sorry for that."

"Look, you shouldn't be apologizing," Roy mutters, hiking his bag up on his shoulder and avoiding Kaldur's eyes. God, after all this, and _he's _the one saying he's sorry? Roy feels, if possible, scummier than before. "You did what you did for a reason."

Kaldur frowns.

"I cannot imagine a reason sufficient to justify such drastic measures."

"Yeah, well," Roy shrugs. "You haven't known me very long."

There's a bitter sort of humor to that; Roy attempts a faint smile to show that he meant it as a jab at himself, not at Kaldur's decision.

"I…would like to know you better," Kaldur confesses hesitantly, and Roy has known him long enough to recognize embarrassment in the tiniest of his gestures, in the way he's rubbing the webbing between his thumb and index finger, in the subtle darkening of the skin around his gills.

"Kaldur…" the archer begins, unsure what to say. It's a bad idea. They already know how this will end. But at the same time, he can't deny…

"I understand if it is too soon, or too great a burden," Kaldur adds quickly. "You do not have to – "

" – it's fine," Roy interrupts, then repeats it, as if to convince himself. "It's fine. I'll…I'll think about it, all right?"

Kaldur nods, taking a step back to clear the tube.

"Patrol safely," he murmurs as Roy straightens out and steps further in.

And damn everything if the sheer sweetness in those words doesn't make Roy want to turn around and kiss him right there, just drop the bag and the bow and _make_ him understand the depths of his heartache, his passion, his regret…

Instead, he keeps his back turned and shoulders his bow. As the beams begin to whisk him away he says simply,

"I'll do my best."

* * *

><p>Roy thinks about it.<p>

More importantly, he talks to Dinah about it.

"It's your decision," she tells him over rice noodles in their usual Star City haunt. "He told you what he wants. Now you just have to ask yourself if you want it too."

But it's not quite that simple, because while Roy would give just about anything for a second (third? fourth? twelfth?) chance with Kaldur, he can't bear the thought of discrediting the last two years, of playing a part in this absurd but inevitable charade. It would be like trying to copy out a beloved story from memory – no matter how close to original you got, it would never be the same thing.

Also, even more than that, he can't bear the thought of hurting Kaldur again.

"So don't," Dinah says flatly when he voices this concern.

Her tone conveys both her disappointment in his past mistakes and her confidence in his ability not to make them again.

And eventually, when he realizes that he's not going to kill off hope no matter how hard he tries, he caves. On a sunny April morning, he acquires Kaldur's number from a strangely gleeful Robin and sends off a text indicating that he's willing to give this a shot.

They start off slow, keeping to team gatherings or patrol work. Kaldur seems to want a friend more than anything else, which is fine with Roy; if all that ever came out of this was that he got his best friend back, he wouldn't complain. Still, when they're out playing beach volleyball or chasing down crooks or just hanging out with Robin and KF, Roy can't help but remember a time when he didn't have to think about what to say, when he didn't have to suppress the constant urge to _touch _Kaldur, not even in any sexual way, just the little things – an arm around his shoulders on the couch, a hand on his bicep as they part after patrol, the light brush of their thighs when they sit side by side. The ease is gone, at least for Roy. It's all scripted now.

To be fair, it does gets a little better as time goes on. After a little while Kaldur begins to joke with him on occasion, and they develop a working rapport in the field that somewhat resembles the one they had before, when they could guess one another's moves without so much as a word. It's not what it was, but it's something, and Roy is grateful, even if he's still sleeping alone at night.

One thing is strange. Every so often when he's visiting the Cave, he catches Robin, Wally and M'gann discussing something in low voices, but as soon as they notice him, they fall abruptly silent. Ultimately, Roy figures it's none of his business, and doesn't ask.

It's a Saturday in early May when Roy zetas in to catch a movie with the other three "originals," only to have Robin explain that there's an emergency in Gotham and he's taking KF with him to deal with it.

"Just start without us," he tells Roy, tossing him the DVD as he fastens his utility belt. "With any luck we'll have this sorted before the good parts."

And before Roy can object, the two of them have become white streaks of light, whisked away into the ether. He turns to Kaldur, acutely aware that it's just the two of them – they haven't been alone together since that first conversation, unless you count patrol, which is significantly more structured and professional than this.

"Well," Roy says at last, tapping the DVD case against his fist. It's too late to back out, and besides, he's a big kid. He can handle watching a goddamn movie without getting all nostalgic or some shit like that. "You wanna do this?"

"You have come this far," Kaldur says diplomatically. "We may as well."

Roy's not sure if he's talking about Star City or something less literal but he decides not to ask for clarification, and the two of them head to the media room. Soon enough the lights are down and the movie's playing, some crap action flick that Rob and KF both swear by, except Roy's not really paying attention because despite promising himself he wouldn't get weird about this, he really just wants to stretch out and put his legs up in Kaldur's lap like he used to, just wants to feel the weight of the Atlantean's hand on his knees, just wants to want these things and not feel guilty about it.

An hour and a half into the film, the Terrible Two are still missing, and Roy suddenly becomes aware that Kaldur has shifted closer while he wasn't looking. He tries to ignore it, telling himself that it was probably unintentional, that Kal's just trying to get comfortable, but the coolness radiating from the Atlantean's bare arm is distracting; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

_Get a grip, _he tells himself, shifting his own arm away as subtly as he can manage.

But before he knows it, the movie is over, and it's still just them in the low light of the credits, no sign of Robin or KF or even any of the people who actually live in the Cave.

He turns to Kaldur, opens his mouth to say something casual and sarcastic about their friends' absence, only to find that they're closer than he anticipated, _much _closer, too close, shit, _when did he get that close…?_

It's like gravity. Kaldur's lips part ever so slightly and Roy's find them before he even knows what he's doing, before his brain can remind his heart that _he is not supposed to be making the first move._

That's a foregone conclusion, though, and suddenly Kaldur's hand is on the back of his neck, drawing him deeper, and the Atlantean is pressing against up against him like he's practicedit, and Roy has dreamt this empty dream too many times to turn away the real deal. He gives up. He gives in. He wraps his arms around Kaldur's cold body and pulls him impossibly close, throws caution to the wind and kisses him with two years' practice guiding his lips. Roy _remembers_. Home court advantage is his.

Without breaking the kiss, Roy lifts his left hand and brushes it over the side of Kaldur's neck, thumb caressing the slit of his lowest gill. He gets the soundless little gasp he was looking for, and with a satisfied grin, he pulls his mouth from Kaldur's and lowers it to his gills, sucking lightly.

But instead of unraveling in his arms, Kaldur suddenly freezes, stiff and inexplicably trembling.

Roy's eyes snap open. Kaldur is staring at him in the flickering light of the TV with a dazed expression on his face, and not the pleasant kind of dazed either. He looks confused, disoriented, maybe even a little scared.

"Kal," Roy says, forgetting not to use the nickname in his worry. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

He tries to pull away, but Kaldur grabs his wrist, freezes him in place.

"R-Roy?"

It's like he's saying the name for the first time.

But just as Roy opens his mouth to ask what the hell is going on, a siren screeches to life in the hallway just outside and they let go of one another with startled exclamations.

"Robin to Cave," the Boy Wonder's voice crackles through the speakers. "Requesting full team response in Gotham. This bugger's tougher than it looked."

The two share a quick look, then spring into action, heading for the gear room before the message is even fully relayed. Conner and M'gann appear on the upper landing a split second later, already in uniform, and Kaldur issues an order for them to prepare the zeta transporter for four beams to Gotham that the two aliens readily obey.

"Are you okay?" Roy asks as he pulls Artemis's spare bow off the wall and slings her quiver over his back. He didn't bring his gear today – rookie mistake.

"Forgive me," Kaldur says, sliding his waterbearers into place. "I…am out of sorts. We must talk, but…later."

"Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped my - "

" – now is not the time, my friend."

And it really isn't. Roy bites back his worry and slips his mask on; that, at least, he always has with him. They meet Miss Martian and Superboy by the zeta tubes, and in the split second before they all disintegrate, Roy suddenly notices a strange expression on the Martian's face as she stares at her team leader, then at him, realization dawning in her wide eyes…

* * *

><p>The mission has only one hitch.<p>

None of them think too hard when Kaldur takes a blow to the head that sends him spiraling into the pavement some twenty feet below; it looks painful, but he's taken similar hits before and come out just fine.

But when the enemy andromorph is in pieces on the ground and the Atlantean is still lying there right where he fell, things suddenly don't seem so routine.


	7. Six

_Kaldur hears his teammates' shouts as though from a great distance – it's dark and cool and quiet otherwise, and he feels dizzy, distant, afloat in a wash of vague sensations of pain and panic and deep calm. After a moment, he lets go, tunes out the concerned voice echoing in his head and slips deeper into the darkness, where the line between memory and dream blurs into meaninglessness. For the time being, it's simply too much strain to keep tabs on reality._

_He is twelve years old. He's standing at the substation on the edge of Shayeris, his hometown, on the day he is to leave for his military service, and his father is there with him, strong and solemn._

"_Kaldur'ahm," Cal says, looking down at him. "You are special, but you are different. What does that mean?"_

"_It means I have more to prove," Kaldur replies softly, echoing the words he has heard so many times before. "It means it is not enough to be strong. I must be stronger than the others. I must be unbreakable."_

"_And you will be," Cal says, a hard smile winning over his face as he lays a hand on his son's shoulder. "You will be a good soldier, Kaldur'ahm. Show no fear and no weakness, and you will make your king proud."_

"_And you?" Kaldur asks as he takes a step towards the other boys, his future squadmates. "Will…will I make you proud, Father?"_

"_Be strong, Kaldur," his father says simply. And he is gone._

* * *

><p>"Aqualad!"<p>

"KF, is he – "

" – breathing, yeah, and his pulse is fine, I don't know why he's – "

" – don't move him, Superboy, if it's a spinal injury it'll make it worse."

"It's not spinal, I checked his Babins– "

" – fine, but be careful. KF, steady his head. Miss Martian, can you get a read on what's going on in there?"

"I'm trying, but it's…I…"

She trails off, and Roy's heart is pounding so hard it's making his chest ache. Kaldur is on the ground, one arm folded beneath his stomach, legs twisted, forehead pressed against the pavement, until Conner gently turns him over and straightens him out.

Dark, thick, Atlantean blood is flowing slowly from his nose. His eyes are shut, and his body is beyond limp. Roy stands at a distance, thoughts exploding in a thousand different directions, his grip white-knuckled on his borrowed bow until he's clenching it so tight he fears it might break, but he can't look away, as if on some panicked level he believes that if he does, Kaldur will slip away from them for good.

He can't do anything more than this, though, and it makes him want to scream, because _he should be the one _cradling Kaldur's head in his lap like Conner is doing now, _he should be the one _calling Kaldur's name, _he should be the one _urging him to stay with them, not Wally, but the words choke in his throat because he's lost that right, if he ever had it in the first place, and all he can do is stand there and watch as his friends attend to Kaldur's still, still body…

"What's going on?" Robin asks M'gann, his voice brisk and in-command. The Martian's eyes are glowing and there is a look of intense concentration on her face, but the fingers pressed to her temple are trembling, as though the effort itself is a great strain.

"I…I can't…" she gasps. "I can't find him…"

"What do you mean, you can't _find_ him?" Robin demands.

"His mind," M'gann replies, brow furrowing. "It's like he's… like he's just…gone…"

"That's not possible," Robin says, sounding like he's trying very hard not to snap at her. "Even when we're asleep or KO'd you can still reach our subconscious. His brain is clearly still functioning, he's still breathing, his heart is still beating. What do you mean, he's _gone?" _

"I don't know," M'gann whispers, biting her lip and taking her hand off her temple. She looks like she's about to cry. "I'll…I'll call my uncle J'onn, maybe he'll know, but I…"

"Right," Robin nods grimly as she trails off. He turns to the rest of the team. "Do it, right away. KF, Red Arrow, run ahead and get the medbay ready. Superboy and I will follow."

Roy doesn't question the order, though he sees right through it – sending someone ahead with Kid Flash is redundant. The point is to get him out of there, because you don't need M'gann's empathy to know that he's moments away from falling apart right there on the field, and they've caused enough of a scene today without a notoriously hotheaded crimefighter breaking down in a crater of debris and road-rubble. He's off his game, so Robin is taking him out of it, and rightly so.

Without a word, Roy runs after Wally, making for the zeta-station they came through not two hours ago. Before he can stop himself, he's thinking back to that moment when Kaldur's body stiffened under his, when those pale eyes flew open and there was something so _wrong_ about him, and how they rushed off to battle before he could find out what it was…

And as his feet pound the pavement and his heart throbs in his chest, he's struck with the sickening knowledge that he's broken Kaldur all over again.

* * *

><p><em>Dubai is hot and dusty, and this has been one hell of a chase. <em>

_Roy is in his element – the archer grew up in the desert, after all, and the wide barren spaces outside the city limits are ideally suited to his fighting style. Though Kaldur is enjoying the climate somewhat less, it is reward enough to see his lover so at ease, racing his motorcycle across the packed sand and occasionally letting go of the handlebars to fire off a quick shot or two. In the early days of their partnership Kaldur's heart would stop every time the archer attempted this move, but now it just swells with admiration. Roy is more than capable. He need not fear for him._

_And the mission is going well – they have the would-be assassins on the run, far away from the civilian-crowded city, fleeing blindly into the desert where they will be easy picking. Truth be told, Kaldur would like this all to wrap up soon, because his waterbearers have been useless thus far, and because he is beginning to feel the effects of the dry air filling his lungs and the hot sun beating down on his back, and it's all making him a little lightheaded. It's nothing he can't handle, but another hour or two of this and he will be entirely useless to Roy, leaving the archer solo on what was supposed to be a joint assignment. _

_Fortunately, though, they manage to drive the two jeeps back onto the main road, their twin motorcycles capitalizing on their superior speed and maneuverability, and Roy tosses Kaldur a small container from the thighstrap of his uniform – compact explosives. _

_With a nod of understanding, Kaldur veers off the road and revs his engine, gunning forward while Roy hangs back and seeks a particular arrow from his quiver. They don't need to speak. They both understand the game, and they both play their parts flawlessly. Moments later, the road explodes in a mess of sand and dust and heat, and the jeeps come spinning out of the cloud, tires blown and windows shattered. Kaldur wheels around and brings his bike to a stop beside the disabled vehicles, then dismounts to assist Roy in extracting, disarming and restraining the criminals._

"_That went well," Roy remarks as they make their way back through the city, towards the zeta-tubes that will take them home. They're both dirty and Roy is a little scratched up, but Kaldur is inclined to agree._

"_Batman will be pleased," he nods, and knows that beneath the mask, Roy is rolling his eyes. _

_The air in Star City is cool and moist. Only when they step out of the police box and the harbor breeze washes over them does Kaldur realize just how dried out he truly is; his head swims and he staggers slightly until Roy's hand descends on his arm to steady him._

"_You okay?" the archer asks, sounding equal parts concerned and amused._

"_Fine, _aïléros," _Kaldur replies. It is an Atlantean nickname, used by lovers or just very close friends. "Just a little dry."_

"_You wanna stop by the bay, take a swim?"_

"_No," Kaldur says, shaking his head. "Home is fine."_

_Roy takes his word for it, though by the time they reach the archer's apartment, Kaldur's vision is whiting out and his limbs are shaking almost too violently to support him. As he climbs out of the trapdoor in the kitchen floor, his knees suddenly buckle and he keels sideways against the counter, grasping blindly for something on which to support himself._

"_Whoa there, fishsticks," Roy's voice sounds in his ear, followed by a deep chuckle. Steady arms wrap around him and he feels himself lowered to the ground, where his vision begins to clear again. Roy presses a glass of water into his hands and a kiss to his temple, crouching before him._

"_Thank you," Kaldur murmurs, drinking it gratefully._

"_You should've spoken up sooner," Roy reprimands. "You don't have to play it tough all the time, you know."_

"_You are not one to talk, my friend," Kaldur rasps, and Roy has to laugh, because he has a point. The archer peels off his mask and casts it aside._

"_Fair enough," he says. "I'm gonna go fill the tub, okay? Yell if you need anything."_

_As Roy disappears around the corner towards the bathroom, Kaldur shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall, weary to the bone._

_Here, in this tiny apartment, here with Roy, maybe… maybe it's okay to be that way._

* * *

><p>The hallway is deadly quiet. Wally taps his foot at an inhuman rate, creating a quick pitter-patter against the steel floor. Conner leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest, jaw tight. Robin stands by the doorway, activating his glove-com every few minutes to check the time, an unreadable expression on his face, and Roy, who shouldn't even be here, sits on the floor away from them all, head in his hands.<p>

M'gann is inside the medbay with her uncle J'onn, who arrived only shortly after Conner and Robin brought Kaldur in from the field. The Martians have been alone with him for near an hour now, and there has been no word from them yet.

At long last, the door slide open and M'gann drifts through, followed by J'onn. Roy gets to his feet, too distracted to be self-conscious about his ripped jacket or his bloodstained shirt (it's what you get for hitting the field in civvies), and the others rise to attention as well.

"J'onn," Robin greets, sounding far calmer than Roy feels. "What's going on? How is he?"

"He is not in any danger," the Manhunter replies evenly, but the troubled look on M'gann's face is telling a different story. Robin glances at her, then back to her uncle.

"You 'found' him, then?"

"No," says J'onn. "But this is not unheard of. As you know, a human body under great strain will retreat into a state of shock to protect itself, eliminating all unnecessary functions as it prioritizes survival. A human mind is no different."

"So he's in…mental shock?" Robin sums up dubiously. "How? What does that even mean?"

"It is my guess that recent psychic events left his mind more vulnerable than usual," J'onn frowns, and Roy doesn't miss the way the Martian's eyes subtly flick to him and back. "In such a state, a blow to the head, which I understand he sustained in the field, could easily trigger a psychological retreat like this. As for what it means, only time will tell. His mind will attempt to repair itself without the distraction of consciousness. When that is done, he will awaken."

"But…how long will that be?" Wally asks, stepping up. His cowl is pulled down and he's not even trying to hide the worry on his face.

"I cannot say," J'onn sighs. "Perhaps hours. Perhaps days. Perhaps…weeks."

"But he'll…he'll definitely wake up, right?" the speedster checks, biting his lip.

"I feel certain he will," says J'onn, placing a reassuring hand on Wally's shoulder. "Though…I cannot promise he will be as you remember him."

Roy's heart clenches.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Conner asks, brow furrowing.

"His mind is in disarray," J'onn explains. "With so much recent…interference…it will have to piece itself back together judiciously. For the sake of clarity, it may choose to purge certain things entirely, things it deems dangerous or undesirable, or simply inconsistent. Any memories discarded this way will be lost for good. You must be ready to accept the possibility that his mind could choose to extinguish each and every one of you. He is beyond your reach now."

A heavy silence falls over the group just as a heavy weight settles into Roy's stomach.

_Dangerous or undesirable. _As if he hasn't proven himself all of those things to Kaldur at one point or another…

"That's…that's it, then," Robin says at last, nodding grimly. "We should…put him on life support, just in case, I guess, and…and report to Batman."

"And Aquaman," Wally adds quietly.

"Right," Robin nods. "And Aquaman. Let's…let's go. Thank you, J'onn."

The Martian nods solemnly and drifts off towards the zeta-tubes. M'gann shares a quick look with Robin, then follows after him, leaving the four boys behind.

"Should we…" Wally begins, trailing off with a brief glance at Roy.

Robin sighs.

"Yeah," he nods. "Let's get him settled in. Wally, prepare an IV. Roy, Conner, get him into a bed while I go get the monitors set up?"

The second order is more of a question, and Roy knows it's because Robin is giving him the option to back out – if this is too much, he doesn't have to be here, but they trust him.

That counts for more than they can know.

* * *

><p><em>Poseidonis is like nothing Kaldur has known before – it is far deeper than his hometown, with buildings as tall as a whale is long, and full of people of every shape and species, in greater numbers than he ever thought possible. When he first sees the Academy, he thinks it must be the grandest structure he has ever seen, with its great gold gates and towering spires, all bedecked in colored coral and precious stones collected from wrecked land-ships. It takes him weeks to come to terms with the fact that he has been summoned here, that the people who created something so magnificent actually want <em>him_ to live here and learn the noble art of sorcery. _

_For the first few weeks of the term he keeps to himself. During the day, he applies himself diligently to his studies, then in the evenings he wanders the capital, taking it all in so that he can write his mother of what he sees. He knows she has never had the chance to travel this far and perhaps never will, so he is careful to capture the details for her – the soft, subtle colors of the sea-glass murals in the main square; the ancient sunken buildings that still have stairs, from the days when they were home to those above the waves; the jellyfish-like movement of the gossamer gowns that the ladies of the Palace wear._

_Then one day he is summoned to the headmistress's office. At first he believes he must have done something wrong, failed to obey some custom he was not aware of, but Mera – Queen Mera, he realizes with fluttering heartbeat – merely smiles at him and inquires after his studies as he sits opposite her._

"_General Ta'tsubo told me about you," she tells him after they have chatted a little while. "He says you are a remarkable soldier, but that you will be an even more remarkable sorcerer, with the right training."_

_Kaldur flushes from the tips of his ears down to his toes. He stares at his feet and mumbles an attempt at a humble objection, but he is a little too starstruck to come up with a proper one. The Queen just laughs, though, and when he looks up her, she has a kind smile on her face. She is not mocking him._

"_I can tell you're a little shy, Kaldur," she says gently. "But I know some other students who I think you'd find easy to talk to. They're gifted, just like you, and I'd like to teach all three of you in a special class – would that interest you?"_

"_It would be a great honor, my queen," he says, taken aback. "I would like it very much."_

_He meets the others not two days later, Garth and Tula, and he is taken with the latter the moment he lays eyes on her: her hair is like fire, and her eyes are blue as the ocean itself. _

_They learn and laugh and grow together, but one day, while Kaldur is distracted by the light filtering down from the strange world above them, he turns back to see their hands intertwined, and as he stares down at own webbed fingers, it occurs to him that this is something he can never do._

* * *

><p>"What do you think's going on in there?" Conner asks quietly, his arm around M'gann's shoulders as she leans against his own, both of them watching over their team leader. It has been three days, and Kaldur shows no signs of stirring.<p>

"I…don't know," M'gann says after a moment, her voice equally hushed. "Uncle J'onn said not to pry, that the deeper we try to probe, the further he'll pull back, and I guess…I'm just not used to being this cut off. Usually I can at least feel_ something." _

"Puts you on the same footing as the rest of us, huh?" Conner murmurs, nudging her side affectionately. "We can't all be empaths."

M'gann gives him a thoughtful look, frowning just a little.

"No, but…you can usually get some kind of a read on people, right?" she asks. "Just by being around them and watching how they talk, or behave?"

"With some people," Conner shrugs. "You, Wally, sometimes Artemis, but…I don't know. Not Kaldur. I don't think he likes to let people in on what's going on with him, you know?"

"Maybe not," M'gann agrees, turning her gaze back to Kaldur where he lies on the bed across from them, the medbay monitors quietly beeping out his vital signs. "I…I hope…"

"You hope what?" Conner prompts, squeezing her hand softly.

"I don't know," M'gann sighs, and lays her head against his shoulder. "I hope he's happy, in the end. That's all."

"Me too," says Conner. "I…I hope everyone is."

* * *

><p><em>Kaldur stands in the doorway of Roy's bedroom, looking in.<em>

_The archer is tangled in the sheets with a lithe young woman, her black hair fanned out over the white pillows as they kiss, their hands eager and grasping and ever in motion. Kaldur watches her slender fingers trace the muscles of the archer's bare back, hears the groans escape Roy's lips, feels his own stomach coil in some unnamable emotion, but he does not turn away. He is fixed to the spot by some masochistic fascination, by his determination to prove that he can witness this and still remain whole. _

_He is strong. He is unbreakable. That feeling in his stomach, it is nothing._

_Then suddenly, the black-haired beauty becomes Tula, her sweet voice crying out Roy's name, her blue eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, and Kaldur discovers he's not so unbreakable after all._

* * *

><p>"You're distracted," Dinah reprimands Roy as he misses yet another simple shot. She swoops down out of the darkness to rectify his mistake, sending the thug's gun skidding across the tarmac before his heavy body follows suit, then turns back to the archer, her face stern. "You shouldn't be out here."<p>

"Where else would I be?" Roy shoots back, drawing a blunt, weighted arrow and firing it off to knock down the goon attempting to sneak up on his ally.

"With him," Dinah replies. She whirls around, landing a stiff kick in one opponent's stomach before she grabs a second and flips him over her shoulder and straight into the pavement. He doesn't get up.

"Yeah?" Roy snaps, feeling the frustration rising rapidly out of the self-loathing that's been driving him out here for the last five nights. "Because you think my being there is going to magically solve everything?"

"Not for him," Dinah replies, finishing off the last thug with a rapid succession of well-aimed punches. "For you."

Roy's arrow thuds into the wall to pin the hapless goon there and they both make for the alley exit.

"I'm serious, Roy," Dinah says, laying a hand on his shoulder. They emerge into the yellow light of the main street and the cracks begin to show – he is sporting more cuts and bruises than usual, telltale signs of his overexertion.

"What good will it do?" he asks. His voice is gruff, masking the helplessness beneath, though he knows she'll see right through it. She always does. "He's either going to remember or he's not. I…I just…it doesn't matter, all right?"

"Is there really _nothing_ you want to say to him?"

He looks over at her, brow furrowing in frustration.

"Of course there is," he bites out, gritting his teeth in his effort to keep it together. "But he…what's the point, when he can't hear it, or even if he _could, _he doesn't even know who I am, or why I'm saying it?"

"How do you know he can't hear you?" Dinah challenges as they walk through the streets. The sky is getting lighter, though the sun hasn't really yet begun to rise; their patrol is almost over. "How do you know he wouldn't remember you, if not on a conscious level, then on some deeper one?"

"I…" Roy begins, but he stops because he doesn't really have an answer. Dinah just gives him a look.

"Besides," she says quietly. "Even if all of that were true, you need to say what you need to say, Roy. For your own sake. You need to get it off your chest before you forget what it is, and it eats at you the rest of your life the way it's clearly eating you right now. Do you understand?"

He turns away, shoulders tight, jaw clenched.

"All right," he rasps, his voice hoarse. "All right. I'll…I'll go today. Later."

"Good," she says. Her hand finds his, clasping it tight for a brief moment. "You owe it to him, and to yourself. You can do this. Be strong."

And they part, disappearing back into the rapidly-fading shadows.

* * *

><p><em>When Kaldur lets himself in, the kit is still open on the table – the spoon, the lighter, the tourniquet, the syringe – but it is not what draws his eye.<em>

_Roy stands against the opposite wall with bow drawn, a sharp, steel-tipped arrow nocked to it. He is aiming squarely for the Atlantean's chest. _

_Slowly, Kaldur's gaze travels from the arrow, across Roy's chest and up to the archer's eyes, blue and sharp and deadly. _

"_Roy, my friend_," _he whispers."What have you done to yourself?"_

_Roy inhales sharply._

_His fingers tense on the bowstring._

* * *

><p>Roy stands by the edge of the bed, but when he opens his mouth to speak it feels ridiculous and awkward and forced that way, and he can't bring himself to start. Never in his life has he talked <em>at <em>Kaldur like this. It feels stupid. It feels pointless. He doesn't want to do it, but this may be the last time that any tiny part of Kaldur remembers who the hell he is – this is his last chance.

And Canary is right. He needs to say it.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Roy takes a deep breath and begins.

"I don't know if you're still in there," he says, and already there is a rasp to his voice as he looks down at the Atlantean. "Or if…if you can hear me, or if you even want to, but I…have some stuff I need to get off my chest."

His fingers twist into the sheets as he looks away, forcing himself to continue.

"I…I always knew I was a fuckup. I kinda figured that you knew that too, because it's not like it's some big secret or something – I'm a fuckup, ask anybody who's known me more than a week and they'll tell you it's true. I still don't know why the hell you decided to be my friend, Kaldur, you're just…well, you're _not _a fuckup, simplest way to put it."

He laughs weakly at that, eyes flicking to the Atlantean's face.

"And to be real, I sure as hell don't know why you decided to let me be anything more than your friend," he continues, looking back down he frowns and lets out a hollow laugh. "I…I guess the sex must have been really good or something, because I don't think I have a whole lot of redeeming qualities outside that, but I just…I thought you _knew_ that you were too good for me. I thought nothing I said could ever hurt you, because you I thought you _knew _how good and kind and perfect you were, _are. _

"You're not boring, Kaldur. You're not boring and you're not cold and I _don't _want to forget you, dammit, I never _did_, I was just so damn ashamed when you saw me like that and I couldn't handle it and fuck,what I'm trying to say is _I love you_, Kal, I loved you then and I love you now and odds are good I'll still love you for a long while yet, even if you have no clue who I am, even if you go back to Atlantis and I never see you again and all I've got to go on are memories. I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I never told you enough while I had the chance, and I know you deserve better than that and I…just…_fuck…_"

With a choked noise, Roy hunches over, hands fisting into his hair as he _does not cry, _because he's better than that, dammit, this isn't the time, he promised himself he wouldn't do this, but Kaldur has always been the stronger of the two of them, and it's too late. He's cracking.

Before it can get any worse, he leans over, one hand cupping the side of Kaldur's cool face, and brushes his trembling lips against Kaldur's forehead in a ghost of a kiss.

"Goodbye," he whispers, hesitating as if he's about to say something else.

But instead, he rises on shaking legs and heads for the door, trying to close off the flood he has unleashed within himself before it can sweep him away for good.

* * *

><p><em>Kaldur is twelve years old. He's standing at the substation on the edge of Shayeris, his hometown, on the day he is to leave for his military service, and his mother is there with him, gentle-eyed and golden-haired.<em>

_She offers him no advice. But just as she releases him to board the sub with all the others, she calls out to him – he turns back uncertainly, and she smiles._

"_Be happy," she says simply. And she is gone._

* * *

><p>Roy is halfway out the door when the medbay monitors shriek a warning – no vital signs.<p>

He whirls around, heart practically bursting in his chest, only to see Kaldur sitting up with a fistful of sensors, looking confused at the whole situation.

"Roy, _a__ï__l__é__ros_," he says. "I have had the strangest dreams."


	8. Epilogue

Kaldur stands on the balcony outside his room in Atlantis, looking out over the city while the passing currents flow across his skin.

It has been two days since he awoke in the Cave medbay. Though he is told he only slept the better part of a week, it feels as though months have passed since he was last truly awake. And where once his recollections were full of holes, now his brain overflows with too many memories, too many swarming emotions, too many conflicts he cannot resolve. His thoughts are tangled. He has come here to remedy this, alone.

Shayeris is warm and beautiful, the city of the shallows. Sunlight streams from the surface above, drawing out the vibrant colors of its people and its architecture, the many brilliant shades of the rooftops, the shells and coral and all the other things that define Kaldur's origins. Leaning against the balustrade, he lets his eyes drink in the view from his childhood home. This, he is sure, is a part of him.

The military and the Academy too. He cannot deny them their place in his past; they have shaped him too much. He will be a soldier and a scholar as long as he lives, probably for far longer than he will be a hero, if his life does not end too soon for this to be true (Kaldur has always recognized the realness of this particular possibility; others on the team shy away from talking about it, and Roy used to shout at him whenever he brought it up, but Kaldur has never been one to kid himself about these things).

Closing his eyes, Kaldur forces his mind to where it does not want to go, to the heart of the mess he has come home to work through. It is no longer an issue of figuring out what is real and what isn't – he awoke knowing all that, but it's not enough. It only tells him what's true about the past, and the past can only tell him so much.

He thinks of Roy in the warm darkness of his bedroom, eyes glimmering with the glow from the streetlights outside. He thinks of the archer's fingers, gliding across his own cold skin, tracing his shape with reverence Kaldur has never held for himself.

He thinks of Roy in the hard light of day, eyes sharp and strange and hateful, fingers curled into white-knuckled fists that shake with the effort of restraining his disgust.

He thinks of the way he felt around him, that intoxicating sense of safety and even peace, the feeling that for once in his life, he didn't have to be so hard, so tough, so infallible. He thinks of the times he allowed himself the weakness of honesty or doubt in Roy's presence, and the way the archer would just pull him closer, whisper reassurance in his ear, kiss him till it didn't matter anymore.

He thinks of how it felt to have that all turned on him, to have every one of those doubts confirmed, to learn he was weak and unfeeling and unworthy in Roy's eyes, as some smug part of him had suspected all along.

He thinks of the cold, empty silence that defined his life these last months.

He thinks of the warmth of Roy's arms, the only place he has ever truly belonged.

His mind drifts, and he lets his gaze fall to the sandy ocean floor, where patterns of light and shadow sway gently, blues and greens and grays flecked with ever-shifting streaks of white.

The sunlight can never get this deep without breaking a little.

* * *

><p>"I do not wish to keep you long," Kaldur tells his teammates. It is his first day back, and he has asked them to stay a moment after training, a request they've all honored without complaint. "I did not want to wait for our next mission to say what I feel I must."<p>

Wally exchanges a glance with Robin, who gives a tiny shrug.

"We're listening," Conner prompts.

"I wish to apologize for my recent actions," Kaldur says, regarding them with a level gaze, sincere but not ashamed. "It was not my place to allow a personal matter to compromise my performance on the team, especially as your leader. My behavior was rash, selfish and ultimately inexcusable."

"Kaldur, really, you're allo – "

" – I am not finished," he interrupts gently, and Artemis falls silent. He offers her a small, reassuring nod and continues. "I justified my decision by telling myself that as team leader, I could not afford to appear weak in front of any of you, therefore I sought to purge the source of my weakness in order to conceal it. I understand now that this was not only unnecessary, but ineffective. I also realize that beyond impacting the team, my actions placed an unjust burden on those of you close to Red Ar– to Roy, and for that, I am truly sorry. At the time, I was unaware that my decision would…affect him as it did."

His eyes flick to Robin and Wally, who offer him a small smile and a thumbs-up, respectively. The team is silent for a moment, waiting to see if Kaldur will add anything else, which after a pause he does.

"I do not believe I will make this mistake again," he says, his eyes growing vacant for a split second before he looks back up at them, gaze clear. "I have a long way to go, but I will strive for clearer judgment in the future, for the team's sake."

"That it?" Conner asks, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yes," says Kaldur, looking surprised at his teammates' nonchalance.

"It's cool," says Wally, with a smile. "Just…don't freak us out like that again, okay?"

Kaldur frowns apologetically.

"It was never my intent to cause any of you grief."

"'Course not," Robin says, clapping his team leader on the shoulder as he moves toward the showers. "But cut yourself a little slack now and again, all right?"

"And let us know when you need help," Wally adds. "Like, _before _you hit the breaking point."

Kaldur nods sheepishly.

"I will do my best."

As Wally makes for the locker room, Robin falls into step beside him; Conner has hung back to have a word with Kaldur, and the girls are heading for their own showers.

"So," the Boy Wonder murmurs. "You think they're…?"

"I don't know," Wally frowns as he peels off his cowl and shakes his head. "Haven't heard from Roy since Kal went off to Atlantis."

"Me neither," says Robin. "Canary said he was doing okay as of yesterday, though. I guess he said what he needed to say."

Wally steps into the locker room, hesitating in the doorway.

"You think that's it, then?"

Robin shrugs and unfastens his cape, casting it aside.

"Guess we'll find out when we find out."

* * *

><p>The kitchen light is on as Kaldur ascends the steps to the front door; the glow spills out onto the rickety porch, reminding him of all the times he has been here before (too many to count). It is a Thursday, and if the interim months have not changed Roy's routine, tonight will be his night off. Around now, he should be cracking open a beer and settling in to fletch a fresh supply of arrows for the upcoming week. Hesitating a moment, Kaldur wonders perhaps for the thousandth time if he is making the right choice. Then he shakes it off, lifts his hand, and knocks.<p>

Roy's eyes widen when he sees who is at the door, lighting up some unreadable combination of excitement and fear as he seems to confirm for himself that yes, he _is _seeing what he's seeing. It is a strange sight for Kaldur, who has never known Roy to be afraid of anything.

"Hey," Roy says, hands instantly sliding into the pockets of his jeans. Kaldur knows this gesture. Roy isn't sure what to do. He will have to take the lead.

"Hello, my friend," he says softly. "If it is a bad time…"

"It's not," Roy cuts in, a little too quickly. He composes himself. "I…uh, sorry. No. It's…it's fine."

The silence stretches longer than it should.

"I still have a key to your apartment," Kaldur says at last, lifting his eyes to meet Roy's. He withdraws it from his pocket and offers it hesitantly to the archer, palm up. "If you would like it back."

Roy stares at it, his face guardedly neutral, but he has to swallow before he speaks next.

"And…if say I don't?"

Watching the light play off the face of the key, Kaldur hesitates for a moment, then curls his fingers around it and tucks it back into his pocket.

"Then perhaps I will find myself here from time to time," he says. "If you would have me."

Roy lets out a breath Kaldur hadn't realized he was holding and slumps against the doorframe, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he says, laughing weakly. "Yeah I think I'd like that. Fuck. No. Screw all this understatement, Kaldur, please keep the goddamn key and visit whenever the hell you want. Even if it's the middle of the night. Even if it's never. I just…please. I want you to…to have the option."

Kaldur can't help but laugh in return – this is the Roy he knows, foul-mouthed and passionate, though with a softer edge than he remembers.

"I will hold onto it," he reassures his old friend. They share a tentative smile for a moment, before Kaldur dares to voice the question on his mind. "Would I be interrupting if I made use of that option now?"

Roy's eyes light up almost imperceptibly and he steps back, opening the door wider in invitation. When Kaldur steps across the threshold, he can detect something in the archer's body language, something trembling and withheld, like Roy is trying very hard not to push this moment too far, so Kaldur takes the initiative instead, reaching out a hand and laying it on the archer's shoulder.

"I am sorry for the trouble I caused you," he says softly, honestly.

Roy shakes his head, opens his mouth as if to say something and shuts it, then closes the door and tries again.

"Don't," he says. "Just…don't. Fresh start?"

"No," replies Kaldur. Roy's head jerks slightly in surprise, brow furrowing. The Atlantean withdraws his hand, then offers a shy smile, averting his gaze. "There are too many things I could not bear to forget."

Before he knows it, Roy's arms are around him, pulling him tight against that broad chest as the archer buries his face in his neck. And in that moment, Kaldur is struck by the feeling that he has finally come home.


End file.
